


v kotorom Isaak Lahey ne nuzhdayetsya v terapii. v osnovnom.

by penink



Series: In Which Isaac Lahey Finally Gets Some Fucking Therapy [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also a warning the beacon hills gang don’t show up until 20 chapters in, As well as the moral and political challenges of being a double agent, Basically the Isaac Lahey is a spy in Russia au no one asked for, Bc he was busy kicking ass in Russia!, Gen, Glacial Burn, I am proud of him, Isaac get's to explore being bisaac, Isaac has grown up guys, It's a Mixed Bag Really, Lotta OCs in this can't help it, M/M, This will end in Scisaac, Why wasn't Isaac in the show's finale?, You don't have to read book 1 to get this but you probably should read book 2, but it'll take a while to get there, but now he's got to deal with the grown up complexities of living with serial killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 166,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/pseuds/penink
Summary: In which Isaac Lahey doesn't need therapy.  Mostly.Isaac is a werewolf, but now he is also a hunter.  Isaac has been tasked with joining a Russian pack, one with blood on their hands and the goal of getting more.  He is the only one who can give the Argents the information they need to stop their slaughter across Europe, but Isaac doesn't know if he can do this alone, or what might happen when his friends can't help him.Despite everything, he is finally ready to go home. He is ready to return to Beacon Hills and to Scott.He just has survive this to get there.
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall
Series: In Which Isaac Lahey Finally Gets Some Fucking Therapy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1132190
Comments: 187
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

_Scott,  
_

_ I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry for a lot of things, especially for the fact that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right between us. You deserved better than_\- 

No. That was not how he wanted to start this. This wasn’t for him to sink back into guilt and self pity. Isaac tore the sheet of paper from the notepad and tossed it aside. Isaac stared around his bedroom; it wasn’t empty in the way one might expect before essentially moving out, but it was empty enough. Isaac’s clothes, the ones he would take with him, had already been taken to Bhatt’s apartment and washed there to remove any scent of Argent from them. Isaac was allowed to take pictures of Melissa and Scott, as well as pictures of his brother and mom, there was no link to the Argents there, but Isaac didn’t want to. They were the only actual pictures he had of them and he didn’t want to risk losing them. Other than that there wasn’t much for him to keep. He did risk taking Camden’s old lighter with him, as well as the silver claw on a leather chord around his neck. 

Isaac fiddled with the pen between his fingers. He didn’t know how to do this. 

_Scott, _

_ There are some things I need you to know before I leave_

Isaac scribbled it out aggressively, leave _where?_ Scott would have no context. _Leave,_ as far as Scott was concerned he had been long gone for a while now. Isaac didn’t even know why he was _doing_ this. Bhatt would argue closure, but Isaac wasn’t sure if he could get it together enough to find that closure. He had put this off. He was leaving soon, _very_ soon, and he’d avoided doing this for weeks now. 

_Scott, _

_ I want you to know that although I still miss you and your mom, that I’m okay_

Isaac scrapped the paper once more. This time the problem was less irritating but no less exhausting to think about. Isaac didn’t know if he would be okay. He was about to throw himself into danger, so that would be a flat out lie at this point. It would be nice to simply tell Scott that he was recovering, that he didn’t hate himself anymore and wasn’t so afraid, but there was more to it than that. 

_Scott, _

_ I don’t know if I ever said thank you for what you’ve done for me. Maybe I have, but I have to say it again. Thank you for helping me. Thank you and your mom for giving me a home. You taught me not to be afraid anymore, how to be better. Know that I haven’t forgotten you or Beacon Hills._

“He’s not gonna think you’ve _forgotten_ about Beacon Hills, you fucking dumbass,” Isaac muttered ruefully, scrapping yet another sheet of paper into a growing pile. Why’d he decide it had to be an actual letter? This would be _much_ easier to draft in an email. “And christ, when did you turn into a sentimental old man?” 

_Scott, _

_ I think I’ve finally learned how to deal with losing Allison. I hope you have and I wish we’d have a chance to talk about her again, I know it hurt too much at the time, but we both loved her. That means something, right? I hope you and the pack are okay, I know Chris must’ve run into you after so much time in the states, but I haven’t reached out. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out. You and your mom were my first shot at having a family, and I don’t want you to think that that didn’t matter to me. It did. It still does. I think about you a lot. I feel like I should’ve done more with our time together, I don’t know what that would be, but I feel like I’ve spent the past few years reaching for you, but you were just barely out of reach._

Isaac shook himself, tearing off the page once more. He was rambling, writing in metaphors. He had no idea how to write, especially about how he felt. Isaac kicked the side of his desk in irritation. He didn’t know why this was so frustrating, why this felt final. Isaac tried to put together everything he had wanted to shout at Scott these past two years, the pen digging against the paper so that it pressed through the other side. 

_I think I might have loved you. _

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. 

_You were the first safe place in my life, the first safe person. It’s a shame that I had just forgiven myself enough to come home that I was needed somewhere else. But I know it’s what you would’ve wanted. I’m going to help people, Scott. Surely you can forgive me for that. I think last year I would have done this anyways, gone somewhere dangerous, left you behind even more than I already have, but it’s different now. I’m not doing this in spite of you and everything you’ve done, I’m doing this because I know it’s what you would have done. It’s what I want to do, but I also want to make it back home. I am going to do this and I am going to survive it so I can come back to you and tell you all of this in person. I promise. And the truth of it is, I did love you. Maybe we just met at the wrong time. Allison, Kira, we loved them too. And that’s okay, I wouldn’t take any of that back. That doesn’t change the way I felt. The fact that I wish we’d had the time to figure out whatever that was. _

_ I think I still love you._

Isaac sighed. He had wanted to be honest, but maybe this was too honest. Maybe all of it was too much. Isaac reached out and straightened out the torn sheets of paper he had created so far, he piled them meticulously on his desk. Who was he kidding, he could never send these, any of them, even if one of them had been perfect, Isaac couldn’t do that to Scott. To throw this at his friend while also knowing he might never get the chance to go back to Beacon Hills. Isaac folded the letters -if you could even call them that- and put them in his desk drawer underneath old school work. He wasn’t sure who he was hiding them from, but maybe hiding things was a good habit to form, considering the future that lay ahead of him. 

This was not the hardest part. Hypothetical goodbyes to Scott hurt, not as much as knowing he might never get to say a real goodbye, but also now he had to say goodbye to the life he had built here. 

Once more Isaac’s belongings fit in a duffle bag, but even that was already at Bhatt’s. The plan was for Isaac to spend a few hours there, shower there, wear his clothes there, to remove any scent of the Argents he may carry. Isaac was just here for one last sweep over his belongings. Romy, Jeanie, and the others would say goodbye now. Isaac said he didn’t want them to take him to Bhatt’s because then they would have to be the ones to leave him there. Isaac had remembered how impossibly torn Scott had been before leaving him at Chris’s apartment. This was easier. 

It felt oddly formal, to have Bhatt and Petyr parked outside, to have his friends and even Valerie and Gabe lined up to see him off. Gabe and Valerie each hugged him and it was nowhere near as awkward as it could have been. 

“You keep yourself safe above all else, okay, Isaac?” Valerie reached up to cup his cheeks and give one final bit of instruction. 

“Okay, I will,” Isaac had planned on it anyways, but he didn’t mind offering some reassurance. 

David was next, standing by his mother and Isaac couldn’t quite tell if he was there by choice. David gave him an unsure nod, not quite looking at him. Isaac was about to move on when David stuck his hand out, Isaac took it. A handshake was probably the nicest thing they’d ever done to one another. 

“They’re not so bad,” David mumbled, still not quite looking him the eye. “Werewolves, I mean. I guess you’re… I guess you’re not so bad.” 

“Thanks, David,” Isaac blinked in surprise. “Thanks for not trying to kill me again.” David turned red, glancing at his mother nervously before pulling away. That was far more than Isaac would have expected from him. 

Leo hugged him immediately, almost holding on too tight. “Thank you,” he whispered it in his ear. “Thank you for doing this. You do what you have to in there, I promise we’ll give them hell out here.” Leo pulled away, and after a moment’s thought, kissed him on either cheek. Ah, the French. Still, Leo turned quite red afterwords. Had he…? Isaac thought it over for a moment, surely Leo hadn’t _liked_ him? Isaac could not bother unpacking that now so he instead turned to Simon. 

“Aw, look at you now. I remember babysitting you on your first hunt,” Simon teased him, ruffling up his hair. 

“Hey, I was perfectly capable then, you just didn’t know it,” Isaac rolled his eyes. 

“Well, sure, but now you can shoot a gun. Can’t kill someone with claws a dozen metres away,” Simon said. Isaac had never expected Simon to look at him so _fondly_. Simon hugged him tightly before pulling back and cupping his cheeks much in the way his aunt had. “You take care of yourself, mon loup, you’re more precious than you know.” Simon kissed him, then gave him a knowing look that said _if you don’t come home, I’ll never forgive you._

Jeanie gave him her own hug but was more focused on words. “I’ll be listening from the other side, okay? You are not alone in this. You send us information, but you check in too.” 

“I will,” Isaac said. Isaac was startled, but not surprised, when Romy all but threw herself at him, bothing hugging him and hanging onto him. “Whoa, can’t breathe,” Isaac said, not meaning it seriously, but Romy didn’t reply. She was oddly silent and without her usual chatter it made Isaac worry. 

“We didn’t get the chance to talk about girls,” Romy said tearfully into his shirt. 

“Romy? What’re you talking about, you knew I liked girls before now,” Isaac didn’t know what else to say. 

“Yes but it’s _different_ when you’re not straight,” Romy had refused to let go so far and Isaac could hear it in her voice she was using humor to cope. 

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Isaac held onto her tightly. 

“Yeah, what’re you gonna do without me?” Romy didn’t let go and Isaac didn’t make her. “I’m gonna miss you, American.” 

“Hey, I’ll be back before you know it,” Isaac said. 

Romy finally pried herself away, “don’t you lie to me, Isaac. Not right before you leave.” 

Isaac nodded, an ache growing worse in his chest. “Bye, Romy, thanks for… thanks for a lot of things.” 

“The same to you.” 

Isaac hated goodbyes, but surely by now he should be used to them. Heading towards Bhatt and Petyr’s car was an echo of leaving Scott and the others behind in Beacon Hills, but this time he wasn’t running away from something, he was running to it. Maybe not into something good, but somewhere he could try and fix things. 

“You have everything?” Bhatt checked with him carefully, knowing that Isaac was struggling to let go enough to leave. 

“Yeah, yeah let’s just go,” Isaac said. 

The plan was this: Isaac would spend the evening at Bhatt and Petyr’s apartment, he would shower there and change his clothes to ensure he didn’t smell like the Argents. Petyr had contact with the Volos pack, some of his old allies in Ukraine had joined the pack after suffering a similar fate as Petyr’s had at the hands of hunters. The emissaries of Paris had good relations with the Volos pack, considering their usual politics towards humans. According to Petyr, they trusted emissaries, even if they looked down on them, he described it as sort of patronizing. This was not the first time Petyr and Bhatt had smuggled a werewolf from Paris to Russia, although the politics had changed as more and more violence sparked across Europe. 

Regardless, Petyr had contacted the pack and they were to fly into Ukraine and meet at the border. The four hour flight would mean they would be driving out into the middle of nowhere to meet a strange and potentially dangerous werewolf in the dead of night. Isaac didn’t know what he had expected. Petyr knew next to nothing about where Isaac would actually be going, however trusting, the pack did not tell strangers, especially humans, where they were camped out. Isaac tried not to let this scare him. And then, basically, he would have to survive living with a strange pack of serial killers alone. 

Isaac felt strange for more reasons than one. He was back at Bhatt’s apartment, this time he wasn’t actually fleeing from something, but rather pretending to. He had to shower, to remove any remaining scent of the Argent home. Once again Isaac locked himself in their bathroom, but this time Isaac had no blood to wash off, but there was something far more ominous about taking a shower there now. Like he was cleansing himself of some terrible crime. The crime being living with the Argents. Petyr had recommended dousing himself in vinegar before actually showering. The scent of the Argents was all but a part of him now, it would take something stronger to ensure it was drowned out. 

Isaac felt sick and he wasn’t sure if it was the invasive scent of the vinegar in his nose or the dawning awareness that he was going to be on his own very soon. Isaac was sure he had burned away whatever remained of his old home and now he had to wash away that too. The water was too hot. He knew it was, but now a certain paranoia was overtaking him that somehow someone would find him out, that they would glimpse something within him that sold him out, some secret brand hidden on his body that would say _hunter_. 

Isaac stayed in the shower until his skin was burned, healed, and burned again. No one came to bother him, their flight wasn’t until 8 that night, but Isaac knew he was being self destructive. Isaac hadn’t actually passed the point-of-no-return, but it felt like he had. Isaac couldn’t imagine the cowardence, the shame, of giving up now, not after months of preparation, months of sacrifice and hope from people he already owed so much. 

Isaac’s skin wasn’t even red when he finally got dressed into clean clothes that hadn’t been in the Argent house for several washes. Isaac’s mild breakdown now passed, he managed to return to the living room with some semblance of composure. Bhatt and Petyr’s silence when he entered made Isaac think they were surely talking about him. 

“You feeling alright?” Bhatt asked. 

“Fine,” Isaac couldn’t help but sound terse in a way that reminded him of Lydia. 

“_How is your Russian coming along?_” Petyr broke the tension. 

“_Okay. I am functional,_” Isaac shrugged halfheartedly. 

“_You’re doing well, considering it’s only been a few months,_” Petyr offered praise. 

“I know four different languages, can we please pick one of them to speak in?” Bhatt was annoyed by the two of them. 

“Sorry, love,” Petyr returned to French. 

Isaac was unsure of what to do with himself, he went back to his bag by the door, pawing through it looking for something to be missing. 

“Isaac, we’re not on the clock, but I would still appreciate if you were honest with me,” Bhatt spoke up once more. Isaac pretended he hadn’t heard him. “If you aren’t afraid, you aren’t alive, so please, talk to me.” 

“What’s there to talk about?” Isaac turned to face him, hands balling into fists against his volition. “There isn’t a conversation that can fix this. This isn’t trauma, it’s- it’s the fucking _potential_ for trauma, actually. All of this planning and all of these bodies still piling up and even though I’m leaving tonight, no one knows where I’m actually going, right?” Isaac snapped. “You won’t know where I am or what I’m walking into. For all you know they know who I am and are gonna kill me the moment you leave.” 

“They only know your first name, they can’t have figured out anything from that. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Ari and I have never engaged with the Argents and never will,” Petyr tried to console him. 

Isaac nodded, something almost like amusement in his expression. “Yeah, but you don’t know what I’m walking into, do you?” Silence. “Do you? Didn’t think so.” 

“If you can’t do this, don’t make yourself,” Bhatt was growing more concerned. 

“I am not going back now,” Isaac was offended by Bhatt’s offer, despite having considered it himself only a few minutes ago. “I am doing this, but I’m also gonna freak out about it a little bit first.” 

“I would expect nothing less,” Bhatt spoke fondly now. “You’ve always been brave, Isaac, but since I’ve met you I’ve seen you grow impossibly braver.” 

“Come on, don’t get sappy on me, doc,” Isaac shifted uncomfortably under the praise. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

Time was moving horribly fast for Isaac now, this time the flight was far shorter than when he had come to Paris but with no less tension. And with far fewer safeguards. Chris had promised that he had done everything he could to ensure Isaac’s safety then, and Isaac had still almost been murdered in the Argent house. This journey came with no such promises. That Isaac would just have to accept. 

It was still disorienting to land in a foreign country late into the night. Petyr handled all of the talking, he seemed far more in his element here. Despite the anxiety of their goal, Petyr breathed easier back in his home country. Sitting in the back seat of the rental, Isaac felt sort of like he was on his way to deathrow. The world around them switched from the city to rural in an instant and suddenly their headlights felt like the only thing for miles. Isaac didn’t feel like he was in another country at this point, it almost looked like the american midwest. The run down houses, fields, and occasional patches of forest. 

The road continued to narrow and roughen and Isaac had no idea how Petyr knew where he was going, sure he had Bhatt check maps occasionally, but not enough considering. They were meeting at specific _coordinates_, if that told Isaac anything about the people he would be living with soon, _living with soon_. Now _that_ felt weird to think about… Petyr had said that it wound up being an empty stretch of road about a kilometer from any homes. Ominous, but it made perfect sense as they were meeting with a member of a reclusive werewolf cult. 

Isaac drifted off, he couldn’t help it, hours on the plane, a few more hours in the car, and there just reached a point when he couldn’t be present anymore. That _did_ mean he was startled and especially disoriented when Bhatt shook him awake. 

“A few minutes out, we think,” Bhatt looked far sadder than Isaac had expected, more than an _I’ll miss you_ kind of sadness, but something far harsher. Unknown to him, Bhatt hated how he had turned around and seen an eighteen year old boy who he was now about to send deliberately into danger. It went against everything he stood for. 

Isaac saw it first, his vision finding the truck parked on the side of the road before the headlights did. A man sat on the hood of the car, seeming to have been waiting there a while. Isaac checked his phone, it was well past one in the morning. He also noted that he had absolutely no service. Apparently they were about fifteen minutes over the Russian border, but it wasn’t like Isaac could check his maps to verify that. 

“_Hello, Lev, it is good to see you again,_” Petyr shook the man’s hand who in turn seemed warm enough. 

“_You as well, my friend. I hope the drive was fair?_” Isaac struggled to keep up for a moment due to the man- Lev’s- thick accent. Isaac now realized almost all the Russian he had heard so far came through a slightly French lilt. He would have to get over that fast. 

“_Fair enough,_” Petyr responded before waving Isaac over. Isaac tried to not radiate anxiety, but he hoped that some stress made sense for reasons outside of being a spy. “_This is our boy, Isaac. I have a feeling he would prefer english, if you could manage it._” 

Lev extended a hand to Isaac who took it with as little hesitation as he could manage. The man’s hand was calloused and incredibly warm considering he had been sitting out in the cold for some time. Lev did almost crush his hand as well, enough that it would’ve broken human bones, but Isaac sensed it was a playful gesture, mostly gauging how Isaac would respond. Isaac responded by essentially trying to break Lev’s hand in response. Lev grinned. 

“It is good to meet you, Isaak,” Isaac could almost hear the ‘k’ when Lev said his name. He was tall, not incredibly, but at least Isaac’s height, with mud blond hair and a surprisingly well groomed beard for a werewolf who lives in the woods. He was older than Isaac had expected, in his forties at least, Isaac wasn’t sure why he expected most werewolves to be in their thirties, Peter being the exception. 

“Isaac will want to say his goodbyes,” Petyr put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, it was comforting, all things considered. 

Lev nodded, returning to the truck. Bhatt joined his boyfriend and Isaac outside. 

“Here,” Bhatt pressed a small cloth bag into his hands. It smelled incredibly strong, almost like spices, but also unnatural enough that Isaac didn’t want to hold it too close. “It’s mostly yarrow, protective charm,” Bhatt nodded to the bag, getting him to open it with a bit of a push. Among the dried leaves, wolfsbane. A tiny plastic bag of the powder. “Keep it somewhere safe. For emergencies _only_.” 

Isaac felt oddly emotional now. The last thing Bhatt would do for him would of course be to try and protect him. Isaac hugged the shorter man tightly. “Thanks, doc. For everything.” 

“You’re welcome. And I can say that now because… I don’t think you need me anymore Isaac,” Bhatt said. “I’m not your therapist anymore, but I am your friend.” 

Petyr hugged him as well, “you’re a good man, Isaac. I know you’ll stay that way, eh?” 

“Take care of him,” Isaac nodded to Bhatt. 

“He takes care of me,” Petyr countered. 

“Ready to go?” Lev’s accent made the words thicker, rougher, but his english was still plenty understandable. Still, Isaac would need to hold onto his Russian if he had any hope of getting information back to his family. 

“I think so,” Isaac held onto his bag a little too tightly. 

“Good, now, understand that this safety, not dislike,” Lev had a blindfold. Isaac looked back to Bhatt and Petyr with some level of franticness behind hopefully calm expression. What could they do besides watch? 

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac could only agree. Isaac climbed into the passenger seat of a stranger’s car, tossed his bag in the back seat, and allowed himself to be blindfolded. Isaac could still see Bhatt and Petyr watching from beside their own car just before the black fabric went over his eyes. 

“You understand,” Lev was sitting beside him now, the hum of the engine causing Isaac to be gripped by anxiety. “If you were to write home where you were staying, just anyone could find us, and that is not good.” 

“No, I get it,” Isaac hated that his voice was a little shaky now. 

“You and the emissaries were good friends?” 

“Well, good enough, they protected me. I stayed with them for a little while,” Isaac already knew how to thread truths among people who could hear a lie. 

“It is okay to miss them, but they did their job. They sent you back to your own kind,” Lev was clearly trying to comfort him but Isaac wasn’t really feeling relaxed. 

Isaac just nodded, he didn’t know what to say and he was already growing more disoriented from the motion of the car in the dark. Lev seemed to sense he was nervous, or at least uncomfortable, and Isaac could hear him fiddling with something. A… CD? He would guess from the sound of the plastic case and the hum of the player. Isaac bit back an unsteady laugh. Lev was a fan of Queen, it seemed. Not that Isaac minded, but it felt almost ironic that even as he was basically being consensually abducted, fucking _Don’t Stop Me Now_ would play. 

“It is the only english CD I have,” Lev offered. “And there are no radio stations out here.” 

Whatever vaguely hysterical humor Isaac had managed died under that last statement. He was growing further and further away from whatever help he might find. Still, music felt better than Lev trying to make small talk with him. It was claustrophobic, being unable to see or know what was happening around him. The changing music was the only indicator of the passage of time. Isaac tried to let himself go out of focus, so to speak, Isaac couldn’t let himself spiral into dark thoughts and fears. Isaac couldn’t think about how helpless he was. Maybe Isaac would open his eyes in an hour and find himself by a ditch, a gun to his head. 

“You can take off your blindfold, now,” Lev spoke after some time of silence, Isaac guessed over an hour but he didn’t know exactly how long. 

Isaac could finally see, the world outside was dark anyways, but Isaac could see better than most. Trees. There was nothing but trees on either side of the narrow road made of chalky dirt. Isaac didn’t know what he had expected, but he had thought that they would at least be close to whatever house -would they have a house? Isaac hoped they had a house- that these people made camp in. Ahead of them was an old metal gate across the road. It had a sign chained to it saying _private property_ in Russian. Isaac was delighted that he could understand it. Sure, he had spent hours a day for months and months now studying Russian, but he was still pleasantly surprised that it had paid off. Lev stopped the car and opened the gate, drove them through, before shutting it once more. 

“We’re almost there, Isaak, I promise. I am sure this journey has not been easy,” Lev returned to the car. Isaac noted, just from the chilling breeze when the door was opened, that it had gotten far colder outside. 

“I’ve been through worse,” Isaac shrugged. 

Still, he looked ahead with some anxiety for what would be his new home. Isaac saw the lights first, windows illuminated through the gloom. Isaac couldn’t see the building itself yet, or buildings, as there were a few more lights further in the distance. The main building was a massive house at the end of a long scraggly lawn. It was more like a lodge than a house, really, with add ons and newer bits of wood coloring differently. It was definitely old, but also well maintained. Isaac hadn’t expected civilization. 

“_Lev! You’re late!_” A short and incredibly round woman was waiting on the porch. 

“_Tanya, come on, they were late! You know how it goes!_” Lev, having parked on the gravel drive, ran up with his arms extended, evidently going to kiss the woman who slapped him away, rolling her eyes. Isaac followed more slowly, bag slung over his shoulder. Isaac had known enough to wear a coat, but he was still chilled. 

“_This is our new one? He is a little boy!_” The woman, Tanya, waved him over. “_Come, come here!_” 

“He is American, Tanya, could we start with english?” Lev asked. 

“Oh, if we must,” Tanya dismissed the man offhandedly. “I do not bite, come over here,” Tanya pulled Isaac closer, her hands patting his cheeks. It seemed that Russians weren’t much for personal space. “American? You’re a long way from home, young man.” Isaac didn’t know what to say and the woman gave him no room to speak. “And what is your name?” 

“I’m Isaac,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in the cold. 

“I’m Tanya. Welcome to the pack!” And with that Tanya hugged him tightly. Isaac was used to werewolves holding back their strength, to incredibly weak touches from humans and caution from others like him, these people knew they wouldn’t crack a rib with another werewolf. “Come on, then, let’s go inside.” 

The front door of the house was in front of an odd part of the building which poked out from the rest. It seemed like this was the original structure and more had grown from it. The entire original cabin had been converted into a living room. A massive fireplace took up the back wall, large enough that several people could sit comfortably inside of it. Isaac was relieved to enter the immediate warmth of the room, he tried to take in as much of the space as possible, some way to make him feel less lost. The ceiling was vaulted, with old wooden beams crossing it. Strange old tapestries of deer and trees decorated the higher parts of the walls, while old tools were hung on display lower down. The couches here were a lot less clean than the Argents, and instead of being draped in neat little throw blankets, they were covered in furs. That with the old wooden chairs and floor poofs, the room could comfortably seat maybe fifteen. A wooden door was shut on the rest of the house, keeping the heat in. They had electricity. Isaac wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Although the style of the lamps seemed like they had come from the 80s. The room even had a tv, albeit a clunky one from the early 2000s. 

It wasn’t the Argent manor, but it was far better than whatever dark cave he had had nightmares about. Not to mention this was one room in a very big and sprawling house. 

“Shoes off, please,” Tanya stopped him. Isaac did as she asked, feeling out of place. “Are you hungry? Do you need food? Drink?” 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Isaac said softly, still deeply overwhelmed. 

“_Tanya, do you have him? I’m going to turn in for the night,_” Isaac jumped as Lev spoke up behind him. Russian was a very loud language. 

“_I will take care of him, you go,_” Tanya said. 

“Good night, Isaac. I will see more of you tomorrow,” and with that, Lev moved somewhere deeper in the house. Isaac wasn’t sure if he should take that as threatening or not. 

“Are you sure you don’t want food?” Tanya checked in with him, waving for him to follow her back down the hall. 

“No, thank you, you’re very kind,” Isaac’s sense of sarcasm died under his anxiety. He was committed to remaining polite until he could gauge how formalities worked in this house. 

“Relax a bit, Isaak, you are safe here,” Tanya seemed to take his reservations as proof of him being another tragic lost wolf. Isaac was reminded of Melissa a bit, when he had first stayed at the McCall house. 

“I think I’m just tired,” Isaac shrugged. 

“I understand. Many come here and are worn from getting here,” Tanya said. They had entered a long hallway lined with doors, to one side was a wooden staircase, the kind with gaps between each step, leaving the room open, despite being narrow. Tanya led him upstairs. “We are a little full as of late, you will have to share a room.” 

Isaac nodded, “that’s fine.” Even as he said it, Isaac was thinking fast. Could he contact his family safely if there was someone who could be looking over his shoulder? 

“Sasha?” Tanya leaned into a room a few doors down on the landing of the second floor. “Are you awake?” No response. Isaac was getting more nervous now, was he sharing a room with some girl? Was it gonna be some middle aged mom type? Was that how comfortable the people in this house were? “Well, I would just be quiet, we’ll get you all introduced in the morning. The nearest bathroom is three doors down. Good night, Isaac.” 

“Good night,” Isaac stared into the dark room in front of him. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder after a moments thought. 

Isaac could see the room well enough. There were two twin beds, one pushed against either wall, Isaac could see a figure burrowed under the covers of the bed furthest from the door. The only other furniture was two dressers beside the beds, lamps on top of them, and an armchair by the window, a little side table beside it, a standing lamp behind it. The room felt a little old lady-ish, or at least more patchwork than personality. Isaac didn’t bother brushing his teeth or getting changed, he just took off his jeans and his coat and curled up underneath the thick comforter of his new bed. The sheets smelled a little musty but also faintly of starch. Isaac got out his phone. 

He didn’t know what he was hoping for. He still had no signal and therefore no hope of contacting his family to let them know he was still alive. Something about looking at that little label of _no service_ made a lump form in his throat. He was well and truly alone now. These people were too _kind_. They were too concerned for his welfare and sympathetic to whatever suffering they assumed he had been through. There was no sign of the violence he had been sent here to find, if that meant he had to seek it out for himself, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, guys! The last book in this messy series begins... This will almost be a mirror to the last book, new people, new country, a secret he has to keep, the difference being Isaac is far more mentally stable. And the end goal of this is Isaac coming home. We'll see what kind of trouble he gets into between now and then...


	2. Chapter 2

Isaac woke up and didn’t know where he was. It was momentary panic where he thought he was still home and a moment later realized the room didn’t smell right, the sheets felt different, even the light coming in through the window felt wrong. Far more concerning, there was someone standing on the other side of the room, watching him. Isaac jolted up in bed, blinking awake. The man, well, the boy across from him looked equally startled by Isaac sitting up. He had been in the middle of getting dressed, he quickly pulled a sweatshirt over his head, looking unsure of what to say. Isaac relaxed, it was, he assumed, his roommate Sasha, and not a werewolf sent to kill him. Isaac didn’t know how he had perceived Sasha as a threat at first glance, he was tiny. Clearly he wasn’t a child, he was just short and scrawny, a certain paleness about him that made Isaac wonder if he was sick, before remembering it wasn’t possible for werewolves to get sick. That along with the black hair and pale eyes gave him the appearance of a vampire, Isaac thought.

“You are the new one. Tanya told me you would be coming,” Sasha spoke up after too much awkward silence, his voice wasn’t quiet, but something about it was hoarse, almost scratched. Regardless, Isaac was just glad he could translate what he was saying. 

“Oh, yeah,” Isaac shook himself remembering he was supposed to respond. “Er, _my name is Isaac. Are you Sasha?_” He fumbled over his words, but he could do it. It would just take time to adjust. 

“Yes. Do you speak english? You’re not Russian,” Sasha asked curiously. “You don’t sound british. We don’t get people from outside Europe.” 

“I’m American, do you… do you speak english?” Isaac tried english. It was too early in the day to easily spit out Russian. 

“Little,” Sasha said carefully, english unnatural for him. “Not good, but I can.” 

Isaac thought carefully before speaking, his Russian, it seemed, was passable. “I can keep talking like this. It is not fair to you,” Isaac shrugged, getting out of bed and going through his bag for clothes. 

Another uncomfortable pause. “Well, I’ll see you,” Sasha left him. 

Isaac pulled on clean clothes, checking his phone again. No signal. Isaac was getting more afraid now. He had to figure out how to get online, so he could contact his family. They had agreed not to panic until the end of the first week if he didn’t respond, and only to panic after a month of radio silence after that first check in. Isaac left his room with some hesitation. The house was awake. He had slept in until a little past eleven, so the others had already gone about their days. Isaac had no idea what the people here did, exactly. Did they have day jobs? Did they just sit around drinking and waiting for the war to turn on? 

“Good morning, Isaak,” Tanya was at the kitchen table with an older man who didn’t acknowledge his presence. She also started the morning in Russian, but again, Isaac could cope. “Come eat,” she didn’t say it like a question, or like he had a choice. It was odd how involved she was, how somehow this felt more like a family than the Argent house, which felt more like a compound at times. This woman dished out overcooked eggs and black coffee. It definitely felt more like being at the McCalls again. “You sleep well here?” 

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Isaac held onto the coffee. Somehow it smelled different. _Everything_ felt different. Isaac knew he should be at least a little used to this, he’d already done it once. Well, twice. Living with the McCalls, living with a functional family after his dad, that was like moving to another country. The same level of cultural dissonance. Maybe it was more like being a refugee, nothing more confusing than the calm. 

“So,” Tanya sat beside him. “You have had long journey. Did the emissaries treat you well?” 

“Yeah. They’re good people. Friends, even,” Isaac knew he was supposed to fall in line and act all buddy-buddy with their anti-human politics, but he couldn’t help but get a little defensive. 

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Tanya said. She seemed almost teasing about it, like they were talking about small children. “They’re helpful little creatures, aren’t they?” 

Isaac didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know if it was just something lost in translation or if Tanya had really just said that as intended. Isaac took a big swig of incredibly hot and bitter coffee, but was saved from the embarrassment of Tanya seeing him choke by Sasha. 

“Have you met your new roommate?” Tanya asked Sasha. 

“Yes we met,” Sasha nodded. “He’s… American. Why is he here?” 

Tanya tutted him quietly. “Ask him yourself, Sasha, you silly boy. He doesn’t bite.” 

“You know that isn’t always true, Tanya. Sometimes they do bite,” it seemed like Sasha was teasing, but Isaac couldn’t tell how much. Isaac sort of hoped he mistranslated. 

_What the fuck. What the actual fuck have I gotten myself into?_

“So, why are you here, Isaak?” Sasha sat down beside him. 

“Some friends said it was safe here,” Isaac shrugged. 

“There is more to it than that,” Sasha said. Isaac struggled to translate his next sentence. 

“Could you… could you say that again?” Isaac asked. 

“There’s more to it than that. There always is for our kind,” Sasha spoke slowly. Isaac hated that he was once again faced by a language barrier, albeit, one he had worked far harder to combat before coming here. 

Isaac couldn’t lie, and not just because of the tell in his heartbeat in every ear around him. Isaac had never been around this many werewolves before, but he felt oddly isolated. Isaac had only lived with humans for the past year and a half. Isaac was actually worried he… wasn’t werewolf enough? He supposed? 

“A lot of bad shit happened for me to get here,” Isaac said. That was true. “It hasn’t been easy.” 

“It never is,” Sasha said. “I do not want to overstep, but what happened to your pack?” 

Isaac paused, but he knew what truth he could share. “A lot of them died. The survivors either didn’t want me around or… or I couldn’t get better with them.” 

“So some of your pack is still alive?” Tanya asked. 

“Can I… can I not talk about this right now? It’s not exactly good memories,” Isaac said. 

“Of course. I understand, you’re still adjusting,” Tanya said. “It is important that you know you are safe here. You can relax, even stay turned if you want to.” 

“I- I’m sorry?” Isaac said, looking to Sasha, the only other person in the room who might offer an explanation. 

“Some people would rather not hide what they are,” Tanya continued. “Well, those same types of people don’t really live in the house. They live in the woods. But still, we do not expect anyone here to hold back, to live like the humans expected us to.” Isaac finally looked to her and buried the urge to jump. Blue eyes stared back at him, not blue, but _blue_. Isaac didn’t know what he should’ve expected. “Sasha, you should show Isaak around the property. Better than me, I always talk too much.” 

“Me?” Sasha didn’t seem all that pleased. 

“Yes, Sasha, you are going to take Isaak on a walk. Nikita will not be home until later,” Tanya’s scolding demeanor was a lot less endearing with those eyes still glowing. 

“Nikita- oh, _oh_,” Sasha seemed to understand something. “Fine. I will do as you asked.” 

Isaac didn’t know what to think of that. There was something more here, there always was. Still, he knew his job. He followed Sasha outside and listened to what he had to say, every word he translated felt precious. It was something he could understand, it was proof that when the time came, when someone let slip something important around the corner, Isaac would be able to send word back. That is, once he figured out how exactly he could do that. 

“I stay in the house, but people with families tend to leave. They make their own homes in the woods,” Sasha took him out onto the porch, nodding out into the woods. Isaac now in the day could see cabins spread out for a few distant miles. 

“You… you don’t have family?” Isaac was curious, and not just for the mission. 

Sasha gave him a look. “Why do you think I’m here?” 

“I- I mean, I don’t know, why does anyone come here?” Isaac grew flustered, realizing how insensitive the question had been. It was like if someone casually asked Isaac where his mom and dad were; tactless. 

“It is safe here. So safe that some of us can even forget about the humans. Some of us go a little wild, but I wouldn’t call that a bad thing,” Sasha said. “Come on.” 

Sasha had them walk down the drive, Isaac burrowing deeper into his coat. “So, there actually are more wild packs,” Isaac said. 

“Yes?” 

“I always thought that was a joke, werewolves running around the woods, fangs out, howling 24/7,” Isaac said. 

“Yeah, some packs are like that. What kind of packs do _you_ see? They all have office jobs and simply hide in a closet on the full moon?” Sasha said. 

“Well, not exactly. Somewhere in between, I guess. Leans a lot more towards office jobs, though. We spent more time trying to pass high school than to, I don’t know, catch deer or whatever,” Isaac said. Sasha didn’t laugh but he didn’t correct him either. Isaac found that a little concerning. _Did_ they actually run around and catch deer? “Well, we’d be in school when we weren’t just trying to keep alive,” Isaac said dryly. 

“Hunters?” Sasha asked carefully. He asked in a way that he didn’t need an answer. 

Isaac felt a familiar bitterness, “sometimes.” 

“It was hunters for me.” 

“What?” 

Sasha frowned, kicking a rock down the drive ahead of them, hands swinging at his side rather than speaking in a way that reminded Isaac of himself when he was nervous or unsure. 

“Hunters. They’re the ones that got me. And my pack,” Sasha said. “This was a bad idea. Let’s not talk about this.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac said. “So, who lives out there?” Isaac changed the subject, nodding at the cabins in the distance. They were far newer than the main building, but also more run down, more rugged in their design at least. 

“Oh, uhm, there’s a pack that’s been here for a few years now. There’s about eighteen of them, I think. Some related, some not. They’re the most wild I know of. They… well, I don’t really know where they live. Not in one of the cabins, but you see them, out there in the woods every once and a while. They’re always turned. Some of them even fully turned,” Sasha said. 

“Fully? As in, like, an actual wolf? Four legs, tail, all that?” Isaac said. 

“Yes. We even had someone who could shift into a lynx once, but I don’t think cats feel too comfortable surrounded by dogs,” Sasha said. 

“I actually can’t tell if you’re joking,” Isaac said. Sasha grinned, too many teeth, human or not. 

“I think its more fun that I’m not,” Sasha continued explaining. “There are a few other families, not full packs, just survivors. But those that moved out of the house, none of them are totally alone. If you’re the only survivor… most of us stay in the house, if you stay here at all. But… if you leave alone, I doubt you’d survive long. An omega alone in Europe? No way you’d survive.” 

“Are you talking about me specifically?” 

“No. But there’s a reason you’re here. A reason your emissaries sent you here, and it isn’t because they thought we’d get along,” Sasha said sarcastically. “You came from Lev’s contact in Paris, right?” 

“...yeah?” Isaac was wary now. 

“Christ, no wonder they sent you here. What were you thinking going there?” Sasha said. “Suicidal, if you ask me.” 

“Because of the Argents?” 

“No, because of the weather- _yes_ because of the Argents. They’re fucking terrifying,” Sasha shuddered. “They’re also chums with the Solovyova family. They’re our local band of murderers. Well, I say local. They’ve harassed every pack in Eastern Europe, leaving a lot of blood in their wake,” Sasha’s jaw seemed set in a way that Isaac could tell his anger was personal. “We’re getting back at them, now. They won’t try and take us from our homes. Not again.” 

“These people here, the Volos, they’re fighting back?” Isaac already knew this, but the sooner his curiosity seemed natural the better. 

“Yeah. It’s bigger than any pack you’ve ever seen. It was founded by Alyosha Volkov, but its not just his family. It’s anyone who wants to fight. The Volos, its an order as well as a pack. They’ve driven every fucking hunter from Russia, and soon enough they’ll wipe out the Solovyova family entirely,” Sasha was clearly proud, but Isaac couldn’t bring himself to hold it against him. This kid had lost his entire family to hunters and finally someone was protecting them, still, Isaac knew where he stood. He was on the side of the people who were learning mercy, not the ones learning to start a war. 

“Do you want to fight?” Isaac asked carefully. The idea that somehow Sasha could enlist, and therefore he could as well, was tempting to Isaac in a risky sort of way. If he could be on the front lines somewhere, not just sitting in the house of a leader, surely he could learn more. 

Sasha didn’t answer for a time, Isaac could tell he had struck a bad chord. “I guess I do,” Sasha said. “But…” Sasha’s hand went to his side, holding onto his ribs. Isaac imagined old wounds were coming to mind. “I’m not ready to go back into something like that.” 

“It’s okay. I doubt anyone would expect you to be after what they did to your family,” Isaac said. “I wasn’t trying to get at your pride. I just… wanted to know where there was to go from here.” 

“What, you want to fight?” Sasha wasn’t scoffing, exactly, but he wasn’t encouraging either. 

“Maybe. Depends on how things go here,” Isaac said, and he meant it. If Isaac could be more useful to the Argents somewhere a little bloodier, that was a risk he was willing to take. Almost out of habit now Isaac checked his phone. 

“There’s no signal out here,” Sasha noticed. “Do you want me to get you connected to the wifi?” 

“So you guys do have internet out here?” Isaac hoped his relief wasn’t that obvious. 

“Only at the main house, and it isn’t great, but yeah,” Sasha said. “The Volkovs, and therefore most of the Volos pack as a whole, don’t really care much for connecting with the human world, but they know its necessary. Although I think half the packs in the woods would smash a computer on sight.” 

“Wait, is there a difference between the Volkovs and the Volos?” Isaac wanted some clarifications. 

“Yes. The Volkovs are the original pack, the original family, but the _Volos_ are more than that. Its a name after a god from our kind, it is all sorts of packs and wolves all joining together into one pack under Alyosha’s lead. We have a common enemy, so even if you aren’t Volkov, you can still be part of the Volos pack, see?” Sasha was clearly invested in their history, even if the distinction didn’t seem that important to Isaac. “Like, I am not a Volkov. I was not born into their pack and Alyosha is not my natural alpha, but, in a more distant way, I do follow him, so I am part of the Volos pack.” 

“Have you ever met him?” 

“What?” 

“Have you ever met Alyosha,” Isaac asked. 

“Me? No,” Sasha grew flustered. “He is too busy for little things like this place. Nikita is around here a lot more, and _he_ serves directly beside him. Nikita is a good man, and I think Alyosha must be, if he’s really helped this many of our kind.” 

Isaac was getting some serious cult-y propaganda vibes now, but what had he expected? A summer camp? Still, Sasha seemed nice enough. So had Tanya and Lev. Isaac didn’t know what kind of blood all of them had on their hands. Tanya had blue eyes. And Isaac had a feeling he would be seeing a lot of those. 

“Do many of the fighters come back here?” Isaac tried to remain casual, but whatever Sasha could tell him he would have to remember. 

“Yes, actually. A lot of them have family here, out in the woods, or they don’t have homes elsewhere so they sleep here between missions,” Sasha said. “I always try and listen in, but they would tell me off because I get in the way, apparently.” 

“But do you know what they’re planning to do? Are they going to… help the rest of Europe? Do you think they’ll move East or West?” Isaac wasn’t sure if he was being too vague or if he was asking too many questions. 

“You ask a lot of questions,” Sasha looked at him, not suspicious, but curious at least. 

Isaac thought carefully about his answer, “I… I’m tired of doing nothing. It’s good to hear a plan.” Vague, not enough to be a lie if Sasha was really listening for that. Isaac knew he was being paranoid. It took a lot of focus -and practice -to hear a lie, so he doubted that Sasha was putting any effort towards that when they were just having a conversation. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I doubt they’d let you go running off into trouble,” Sasha said. “Tanya said Nikita would be back later. You’ll meet him.” 

“Should I be worried?” Isaac asked, only half joking. 

“Doubt it,” Sasha said. “Look, I don’t really have anything else to show you, I don’t think the other packs would appreciate me walking you through their front yards, so how about I give you the wifi password and we go back to the house?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Isaac said. 

“Good, but if Tanya asks, I was a good host,” Sasha said. 

“Sure,” Isaac rolled his eyes, finding it hard not to be amused. Both Isaac and Sasha heard a car coming down the drive before they saw it. 

“That’ll be Nikita and the rest,” Sasha started walking faster, looking excited to see what was happening. 

Isaac followed him closely, watching as four werewolves got out of a van with darkened windows. Isaac tried not to be unsettled by the one of them whose fangs were still out and his eyes glowing blue. That same man also walked past them, heading for one of the cabins without saying goodbye. Isaac stepped back as he passed. The man smelled like stale adrenaline and blood. 

One of the remaining three was being supported by the other, her leg wrapped in bandages. Isaac was confused and a little worried, Isaac knew he shouldn’t be, these people were the enemy. Still, he had to wonder, had they not been able to get the wolfsbane out in the field? Isaac assumed the man now talking to Tanya on the porch was Nikita. He was fit, imposing, and confident, a certain arrogance that Isaac assumed was fitting. They spoke in low tones, Tanya looking grave. The injured werewolf was helped up the stairs by another stranger from the house. 

“Nikita!” Sasha called ahead, the man who had actually been helping carry the injured woman upstairs turned to face him. He didn’t look irritated at Sasha, merely surprised. 

“Sasha. You’re out of the house,” Nikita was teasing, friendly. Isaac could understand why he was so well liked by Sasha. The man gave off the easy-going humility that felt a lot more inviting. He was handsome, black hair, dark eyes, a sharp jawline and broad shoulders. Like Derek if he was clean shaven and less… sharp. Something about his demeanor seemed calm rather than authoritative. He was young, too. Concerningly young for how important he seemed to be, maybe 30 at the oldest. More concerning than his age was the dried blood on his jacket and shirt. Isaac knew only some of that blood belonged to the woman he had been supporting before. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” Sasha joined him on the porch. “Where were you guys?” Sasha asked and Isaac joined quickly to listen, having a fleeting fear that he wouldn’t be able to translate what was said. Nikita didn’t acknowledge Isaac besides a little nod, focusing on Sasha. 

“Sasha, I am tired, I don’t want to go into the specifics,” Nikita sighed, reaching out to mess up Sasha’s curls which he ducked away from easily. “But, fine, fine, I doubt you will stop pestering. We were in Belgorod, got into a tussle with a group of the Solovyova. They weren’t hurting anyone, but they should know better by now. Tried to just ask them to leave, but it is never easy with their kind.” 

“Belgorod?” Sasha seemed anxious. “That’s close. That’s _really_ close. Why are there still hunters that close to us?” 

“Don’t worry, little man. It was just a few of them,” Nikita seemed to soften at Sasha’s distress. 

“They shot Mia,” Sasha countered. 

“And she will be okay,” Nikita remained patient. “It looks like we have more important things to talk about,” Nikita finally turned to Isaac and despite his warmth Isaac felt like the man was picking him apart with his eyes, red or not. “My sister told me you would be arriving. I’m Nikita.” Another handshake, firm, but not as if he was trying to break Isaac’s fingers. 

“I’ve heard about you. You’re in charge here, right?” Isaac got straight to the point. 

“Yes, I am,” Nikita chuckled. “Arguable, sometimes. Tanya is, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, quite the authority.” 

Tanya slapped her brother’s arm, Isaac could see the resemblence now. She calmed, “Nikita, this is Isaak.” 

“Welcome to the pack,” Nikita repeated what Tanya had told Isaac the night before. Isaac didn’t know how to respond to how immediately welcoming they were. People who were too eager to keep him around tended to have dark intentions, even Scott hadn’t trusted him at first. “Has Isaak been questioned yet?” 

_Questioned?_

“No, he has not. He got here late last night and I wanted to give him a moment to breathe,” Tanya scolded him. 

“I understand, but it would be easier to get this over with,” Nikita turned back to Isaac. “I am sorry, but it is just how we do things here. We need to know who comes into our home.” 

“Y-Yeah, okay,” Isaac nodded, his anxiety growing worse again. 

“Don’t you want some time to recover?” Tanya frowned at her brother. 

Nikita gestured to his bloodstained clothes, almost embarrassed by it, “let me just get washed up. I rested on the drive back,” Nikita dismissed her, heading inside the house. 

“Don’t look so worried,” Sasha teased Isaac, before heading inside, Isaac was unsure if he should follow. 

“Come on, Isaak. Nikita won’t be long,” Tanya led him inside with a hand on his back. 

“What is Nikita gonna ask me?” Isaac couldn’t help but ask her. 

“It’s not a test, he just needs to check in on some things, make sure we know where you stand,” Tanya was cryptic and unhelpful. “Sit down. I will make you tea.” Nikita was right. Tanya’s version of being a host was giving orders, but Isaac couldn’t bring himself to be bothered. “Hey, don’t be afraid. I doubt there’s anything you could do that would actually push us to kick you out.” 

Isaac laughed awkwardly. Had he always been this unnatural? Or was his precarious state making him this way? 

Tanya sat beside him. “I mean it. You’re safe now. We’re not going to throw you back out there with the hunters. None of our kind gets left behind, okay?” 

Isaac felt a mixture of relief and guilt at this. These people, their compassion, it was so genuine. Isaac couldn’t allow himself to fall prey to it. He had to remember what they had done. It was his first day here, if he started to fall into their trap already he was doomed. 

Nikita returned, clothes changed, smelling of soap. He sat down across from Isaac, hands folded in front of him on the table. “Alright, Isaak-” Nikita paused before switching to english, “would you rather do this in english?” 

Isaac nodded after a moment of hesitation. “Yeah, I guess that’d be better,” english did feel easier, but there was no mistranslating to blame a mistake on. 

“Okay, good,” Nikita did seem calm and well meaning, like he was trying to make sure this didn’t seem like an interrogation. “Let’s start easy, can I see your eyes, please? I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, we don’t judge. Blue eyes, yellow. We don’t care, but still, its good to know.” 

Isaac nodded, his eyes flashing amber and Nikita’s glowing red in what seemed like a subconscious response. Both returned to blue and brown on either side. 

“Good,” Nikita nodded, seemingly speaking to himself. “That’ll shorten this conversation quite nicely. It’s okay if you have blood on your hands, as long as it isn’t one of our kind.” 

Isaac, muting his horror, simply nodded. 

“Now, were you born or bitten?” Nikita seemed to treat this question with more weight than the whole murder inquiry. 

“Bitten,” Isaac said. It was like he could see Nikita’s opinion of him change, even Tanya seemed to shift. 

“Hey, that’s okay,” Nikita seemed almost pitying now. “We understand, we all get here differently.” It was like they were talking about him like he had a disability. “How old were you when you were bitten?” 

“Sixteen.” 

“And who bit you?” 

“Derek Hale.” 

Nikita’s interest piqued. “_Hale?_ There are still Hales out there alive?” 

“You’ve heard about the Hales?” Isaac asked. 

“I’ve heard the name. Never met any of them personally, but there was a time when they were the most powerful pack in the west of the United States,” Nikita said. “I’ve heard there’s been a bit of a rumble there in recent years.” 

“A bit of a rumble,” Isaac scoffed. “More than that.” 

“You were there for all of it?” Nikita suddenly found this tragic bitten werewolf a lot more interesting. 

“Um, most of it. I… I wasn’t there for the fire. I’m sorry, but most of the Hales are dead,” Isaac said. 

“Pity,” Nikita said. “Argents? That sick bastard- Gerard, I knew he had caused so much damage in Canada, and his foolish son started mucking about in America…” 

“His daughter, actually did the most damage. She killed most of the Hales. It really fucked up Derek,” Isaac was glad there were things he could be fully honest about, no need for talking around things. 

“Derek Hale… I don’t know that name. You said most of the Hales were dead, but Derek Hale is an alpha who turned you,” Nikita was trying to catch up. “So- why are you here? If you weren’t there for the Argents’ slaughter, what happened to your pack?” 

This part Isaac was a little more worried about. “It was just me and two other betas. Derek was trying to rebuild. And…” Isaac paused, looking for some form of opinion in Nikita’s eyes. “The Alpha pack killed them. It was a pack run by Deucalion. I’m sure you know that name.” 

“I do,” Nikita’s jaw was set and tense. “They’re an abomination.” 

Isaac laughed. Nikita looked at him like he’d gone mad. Mostly, Isaac was just relieved. “They’re not really a problem anymore.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Tanya spoke up for the first time. 

“Me, Derek, some others. We stopped them. Killed a few, broke up the rest,” Isaac said. 

Nikita laughed. “You know, if I didn’t know Tanya was listening to your heartbeat, I would say you’re full of shit.” 

“It doesn’t mean things went well,” Isaac said. “Derek kicked me out, the rest of our pack was being picked off, so… I didn’t belong there anymore. After the whole alpha pack thing, there was other weird shit, and… I couldn’t stay there. Derek didn’t want me anymore.” 

“Derek sounds like a coward. And a shit alpha,” Nikita frowned. Genuine anger, but an anger in the way that Scott got angry. All self righteousness. “You don’t abandon your betas like that.” 

“He was. Well, he was a shit alpha, but he’s not a coward,” Isaac said. “He… tried. And he saved me.” 

Nikita didn’t ask how Derek saved him. He seemed to assume the bite in itself qualified as saving him from a pathetic human life. 

“I am so sorry about what happened to your pack. The Alpha pack… deucalion... the only thing I can think to compare it to is cannibalism. The evil of what they do, slaughtering their own packs… they are just as much an enemy to us as the humans are,” Nikita said. Isaac felt some relief. Part of him had worried that somehow these people might respect the alpha pack. It seemed the conversation had gotten away from Nikita. He refocused. “Anyways- how did you end up here?” 

Isaac had already had this planned out. “An emissary from back home had contacts in france-” not a lie, Deaton had helped Isaac get in contact with Bhatt, “-and I ended up in Paris because… it was somewhere to go, really.” 

“Were you aware that Paris is the home of the Argents?” Nikita looked at him like he was insane again. 

“Well, yeah, but I’d already survived the Argents back home, and at least in France I would have a safehouse. Like I said, Derek kicked me out,” Isaac said. 

“I do not understand your logic, but I suppose I cannot understand what it is like to be packless. Plenty of omegas find their way here, all in their own way, yours just… is surprising, dangerous, but also surprising,” Nikita said. “You also said you survived the Argents ‘back home’, you mean to say, you were fending off Argents _and_ the alpha pack?” 

“Well, sort of. The Argents didn’t bother us, they were too busy trying to stop the alpha pack. There was only a few of them left by then,” Isaac hoped that he appeared neutral, that bitterness wasn’t bleeding through at the wrong time. 

“The Argents just… let you go?” Nikita was skeptical. “How did _that_ happen?” 

“We -meaning me and my pack- didn’t really bother the humans, we just kept out of their way mostly, so the Argents there -the son, their daughter died before I turned- were only focused on killing off the alpha pack,” Isaac explained. 

“It’s a good thing you left, Isaac,” Nikita said. “I’m sure if you had stayed after the alpha pack they would have killed you too. Whatever your differences, I hope your old alpha is okay, had the smarts to leave town too.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Isaac shrugged. “It didn’t matter that much to me at the time, I just needed to get out.” 

“Yes, and you ended up staying in Paris with the emissaries,” Nikita got back into the story. Isaac nodded. “And how long did you end up staying with them?” 

“Oh, well, I first stayed there a few years ago, and you know I left like two days ago,” Isaac said. Not a lie. He had stayed there a few years ago and left a few days ago, as long as he didn’t have to clarify where he was in between. 

“That’s a long time to be in hiding,” Nikita seemed surprised. 

“It’s not too hard to pretend to be human,” Isaac shrugged. “I got pretty good at keeping quiet about what I am.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nikita said. “That must’ve been hard.” He frowned. “Why didn’t the emissaries send you to us sooner?” There was something accusing in his words, directed at Bhatt and Petyr now. 

“That was me,” Isaac defended them. “I wasn’t ready to go back, to rejoin a pack.” 

“Why?” Nikita grew more puzzled. “You would rather be taken care of by a couple of humans than be with your own kind?” 

“No,” Isaac said. “Definitely not. I… Derek left a bad impression on me for pack life. And the emissaries… they’re good people. They looked after me. One of them really helped me deal with all the shit that happened to me back home.” 

“Still, that sounds very uncomfortable,” Nikita said. “What did you do on the full moons?” 

“Stayed in. I didn’t leave my room,” Isaac said. 

Nikita was clearly trying not to be judgemental. “That sounds awful. They just kept you in your room like a dog on a leash? That’s crossing a line. Emissaries can be helpful, but did they make that choice for you?” 

“No, they didn’t,” Isaac knew he was growing cold. “It was my choice. I was safe there, and yeah, I didn’t run around Paris on the full moon. Great way to get murdered by the Argents.” 

“Ah,” Nikita was apologetic now. “That is an entirely different circumstance. So- what made you change your mind? What made you agree to come here?” 

“It was what you’ve been doing, actually. I heard stories about you guys chasing hunters out of your home, that you’ve been fighting them off,” Isaac said. “I needed to be here for that.” 

“That’s why you came here?” Nikita asked. “Most people come here for safety.” 

“I had safety. I was safe with the emissaries, but I want more than that. I want to do the right thing,” Isaac said. 

“We can give you that chance, Isaac, but know that this life is not easy,” Nikita said. 

“My life has never been easy,” Isaac scoffed. “I’m not here for things to be easy.” 

Nikita gave him an affirming nod. “Okay. Let’s start slow here, but I trust you, Isaac. And I promise you’ll be given the chance to fight back.” 

“So… did I pass?” Isaac asked. 

“Sure, if that’s how you want to think about it, then you passed,” Nikita stood, Isaac following. 

“Wait- Tanya, _you_ were the one listening in?” Isaac asked her. 

“Well, yes. It’s easier for me to focus if I’m not doing the talking, and I’m just better at it. It’s a specialty of mine, nothing gets past my ears,” Tanya said. “Why? Were you planning on lying?” 

“No,” Isaac said too quickly. 

“Aw, don’t get so nervous! I know you didn’t lie,” Tanya punched his arm lightly. Well, lightly for them. It was the kind of hit that probably would’ve knocked Stiles over. 

“So, could we talk about me… I don’t know, helping somehow?” Isaac tried. 

“We’ll get there, Isaac. Maybe you should just get settled for now,” Nikita said. Isaac understood that he was dismissed, even if he didn’t exactly get what he wanted. 

“Hey, Sasha!” Isaac stopped him in the hallway. Isaac hesitated before returning to Russian. “Could you help me get connected to the wifi?” 

“We’re the only young people in this house and you’re trying very hard to prove them right. Do you really need your phone that badly?” Sasha teased him. 

“Come on, man, can you help me out?” 

“I was only joking,” Sasha took his phone from him, pausing with some confusion at the english keyboard, before eventually typing in the password. 

“Thank you,” Isaac didn’t care if he was fulfilling some stereotype about teenagers being addicted to their phones, he was just glad he could contact his family. 

“Dinner is in an hour, do you… do you want to help?” 

“Help?” 

“Well, there’s not much to do here, usually I just help Tanya, the people that come here, those that stay in the house, they’re not very social. Most of them are old depressed omegas. There isn’t much to do here, and the packs in the woods mostly keep to themselves,” Sasha shrugged. “I meant, do you want to help me, and Tanya, I suppose, make dinner? It’s something to do.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Isaac knew he should let his family know he was okay as soon as possible, but his gut instinct said finding a place for himself in this house was more important. And something about Sasha, that familiar loneliness, made it hard for Isaac to say no. 

Tanya was currently defrosting meat that definitely hadn’t come from a store. 

“What is this?” Isaac asked. 

“_Olenina_,” Tanya explained. 

“I have no idea what that means,” Isaac said. 

“Ah, it is an animal in the woods. You have them in America too,” Sasha said. 

“Um, deer? Venison?” Isaac asked in english. 

“Maybe?” Sasha said. “Deer… yes that sounds right.” 

Isaac, translation finally understood, had more questions. “Wait- did you guys just hunt down a deer yourselves?” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Tanya scoffed. “Lev caught it a few weeks ago. It takes a long time to use a whole animal.” 

“Right,” Isaac said. “I’m guessing he didn’t shoot it..?” 

“Why would he need to do that?” Sasha asked quizzically, following Tanya’s lead in cutting up vegetables. “We don’t need to rely on human weapons.” 

Isaac could definitely see one of the people here tearing into a deer with their teeth, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a disgusting image. Still, Isaac knew better than to criticize and instead fell into a surprisingly natural routine. Sure, he wasn’t helping Scott make stirfry before Melissa got home or baking in the Argent kitchens, but still, this was something he could navigate, at least a lot easier than he could figure out this strange new house and stranger people. 

Isaac hadn’t realized how many people were actually in this house. Sure, Tanya had said most of the rooms were occupied and it was a big house, but he hadn’t really seen many of them. Until now. It was past dark, but it was like the house just woke up, some people returning from wherever, others just finally bothering to come down into the dining room. Said dining room had three regular sized dining tables pressed together, a hodgepodge of scratched wooden chairs circling it. All of these brooding inhuman werewolves were perfectly content to drink and talk loudly and hug each other. Half the time Isaac thought these wolves were too cold and the other half they couldn’t be more involved in each other. It was weird, no one properly introduced themselves to Isaac, but they also were happy to hug him or clap him on the shoulder or reach across the table in front of him as if he had always been there. Isaac couldn’t help but get caught up in the fondness that came with it, the immediate acceptance and roguish fun that was severely absent in the Argent household, with maybe Romy being the acception. Isaac preferred to sit quietly, focused more on trying to understand the waves of conversation. 

Particularly Lev and Nikita’s conversation, spoken in hushed tones at the other end of the table. Isaac, supernatural hearing or not, couldn’t hear them over the din of the other pack members shouting and laughing across the table. They got up to leave together before heading outside. Isaac stood a moment after, intending to at least look outside and see where they went. 

“Where are you off to?” Sasha grabbed onto his sleeve. 

“Huh?” Isaac was still staring at the back door where the pair had disappeared. “Oh, I’m just… I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna get an early night.” Feeling like he had little choice now, Isaac headed upstairs, unable to glean anything from the window he passed on his way there. 

He returned to his bedroom, sitting in the chair by the window, legs hanging over the armrest, feet pressed against the window sill. Isaac, with a glance back at the shut bedroom door, logged into an email account that he would clear from his phone’s history after using. He would never be notified of a reply, that was too dangerous, too noticeable, but he would check it himself regularly. Isaac found himself writing another letter, although one very different from the attempts he had made only yesterday. 

_I am okay. I have no idea where I am, its in the woods. We were driving for maybe two hours, but I’m not totally sure. They kept me blindfolded until we reached a metal gate, but there was nothing that told me where I was. There aren’t many fighters here, not that I’ve met yet. I’ve met Nikita. He interrogated me and I think he trusts me. He and some others returned from a mission, they fought with some of the Solovyova in Belgorod. I don’t know where that is, but apparently it’s close to where I am now. There are a lot of people here, but as I said only 4 of them I know have gone out to fight. There are a bunch of packs out in the woods at at least 20 people living in the house._

Isaac tried to think of what else needed to be said. There had to be more. 

_They haven’t done anything to me. I have only seen red and blue eyes so far, though. Which proves that what you’ve told me is right. And I might be able to join Nikita in the fight, which won’t be easy, but it’ll get me closer to the action and the planning. I’ll try and update you in a few weeks. You know the drill, if I don’t respond in a month assume I’m dead and do what you can. I hope you’re all doing okay. One day down, a thousand to go, right? If something else happens I’ll try and update you sooner._

Isaac was about to send it when he saw a flash of light out on the lawn through his window. A building on the edge of the woods, one that looked like a bunker from the cold war, the door had opened and Nikita and Lev exited together, still talking. Isaac sat up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear from there, but he wanted to try and glean something. And he did. Both men were stained with blood. It was only a darkness covering their clothes from where he was, but Isaac knew what it was. Isaac had to get in that building, because he had a feeling that it wasn’t just another deer bleeding inside. And he had something else to add to his message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so long lol. Also, I was trying to figure out how I wanted to navigate writing people speaking in Russian, I didn't want it to be irritating so I didn't want to italicize it all the time, I basically decided that we should assume people are speaking Russian unless stated otherwise, also another way to tell is Isaac is spelled 'Isaak' when the speaker is saying it in Russian. Hope that at least makes sense!


	3. Chapter 3

Sasha was already awake when Isaac woke up. It was still strange to wake up in a shared space. Isaac wondered if this was what living in a dorm would have been like, had he gone to university.

“Hey. Is it okay if I ask you some sort of dumb questions?” Isaac sat up, running a hand through his tangled hair, trying to wake up. 

Sasha, dressed and about to leave, paused. “...yes?” 

“What’s that building at the end of the yard? The concrete one just before the woods?” Isaac asked, watching carefully for a reaction from Sasha in case he refused to let anything go with words. 

“It was a shelter. Back in the cold war.” 

“Okay, I meant now,” Isaac couldn’t help but be sarcastic, but from Sasha’s amused smirk it seemed he wasn’t annoyed by him. 

“You catch on quick. That’s where all the interesting stuff happens. All the plans I’m not allowed to listen in on and the mysterious visitors,” Sasha said. “I’m sure that if I was actually there to help they wouldn’t send me away, but when I just want to listen and… occasionally comment, they kick me out.” 

“So, they meet in there, is that what you mean?” Isaac tried to get back to the point. He continued the conversation while he got dressed, Sasha pointedly facing away from him. “And wait- ‘mysterious visitors’? What do you mean by that?” 

“Part of the Volos pack who are too important or too busy to stay for dinner, so they just hide out there and worry about big picture stuff. And if they ever need to keep a hunter around for information- well, I wouldn’t call that a ‘visitor’, that implies that they’re there by choice and that they’ll leave eventually,” Sasha spoke so casually it took Isaac a moment to register what he had said. 

“So that’s where all the important stuff is happening, huh?” Isaac repeated, cogs turning as he tried to figure out how he could get inside that bunker. More importantly, he now had a better guess of whose blood Nikita and Lev had been covered in the night before. 

“You’re very eager, you know that?” Sasha turned to face him once more. “I’m starting to think you’re only here to get into trouble,” Sasha was teasing, but Isaac was too anxious to take the statement lightly. “Look, if you really want to help Nikita, talk to him. Every few nights there’s a reason for them to rush out to save someone. Maybe he’d let you go along.” 

“You think so?” Isaac asked. “I haven’t been here very long.” 

“You want to help, that counts for something,” Sasha shrugged. A pause, Sasha frowning deeply, he seemed tense. “Maybe I could come along too.” 

“You’d want to do that?” Isaac resented himself for truly feeling concerned for Sasha. Then again, Sasha seemed to just be a casualty in all of this. He didn’t choose who saved him. Still… Isaac should know better than to put faith in someone he was destined to betray. That didn’t make it any easier for him to stop. “Are you ready for something like that?” 

Sasha stood. “Who are you to decide what I’m ready for?” He grew sharp in an instant, a defense mechanism Isaac knew well. 

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to do this just to help me, not that I wouldn’t mind the help,” Isaac talked him down. Part of him wondered if this was what Scott had felt like when he calmed Isaac’s anger in the early days. 

Sasha grew sheepish once more, a hand going to the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to be rude. Just… I’ve been doubting myself so long I kind of assumed everyone else doubted me too.” 

“I don’t doubt you,” Isaac didn’t know what made him say it. More so, he didn’t know what made him _mean_ it. Sasha didn’t seem to know what to do with that sincerity either. He looked a bit like a deer in headlights, staring up at Isaac, frozen between speech. “We’ll go into this together,” Isaac finished the conversation for him. “Whatever comes next.” 

Sasha stared at him for a moment, seemingly trying to figure something out. Isaac did his best not to shrink away from this. 

“Okay. You are strange, Isaak. You know that?” Sasha said. 

“I am?” 

“You’re… forward. Very forward. You know what you want and you’re going for it,” Sasha seemed to look at him differently now, that smirk he had seemed more impressed than it had before. Isaac felt oddly flustered by it. 

“I hope that isn’t a bad thing,” Isaac managed to find words. 

“It’s not.” Sasha didn’t elaborate, instead he just gave him a little nod and left him. 

Isaac let out a sigh of relief as the tension left him. Sasha kept him on edge for reasons beyond the obvious. Now that he was alone… 

Isaac fumbled for his phone, checking once more for footsteps in the hallway outside before reopening his email. Someone had responded earlier that morning. 

_From what you said about Belgorod it isn’t worth sending our people out there, especially if it meant endangering you so soon. Our people are dispersing closer to their borders, so far no engagement. About the building you saw and the blood: DO NOT TRY AND ENTER THE BUILDING. DO NOT BREAK IN. DO NOT BREAK THEIR RULES. But if you can do so with their permission, get inside. You said that they didn’t take their wounded out there, which means it’s unlikely that it is their blood, and Solovyova hunters go missing at times. Repeat: DO NOT ENGAGE. IF YOU GET INSIDE DO NOT PUT YOURSELF AT RISK NO MATTER WHAT. REPORT BACK. We will update you with any relevant news from our side._

_Outside of orders: I’m really glad you’re okay, Isaac. We were all mad with worry yesterday. David said they were probably going to chop you up the moment you left Dr. Bhatt. (He actually seemed very relieved when I told him you were okay) Romy says don’t get into any trouble without her and I definitely agree. Stay safe. Be in touch soon. _

_-J_

Isaac was very glad that Jeanie was responsible for writing back to him. It was one thing to be told what to do, it was another to have a friend update him on the little things. That comfort was shadowed in a terrible loneliness. His friends were going on with their lives and their work for the cause without him. He knew what he was doing was important, but it hurt knowing that Romy, Jeanie, and all the rest were side by side hearing about the fight. Isaac logged out of the account and locked his phone. He would have to get in the habit of not checking for updates constantly. It wouldn’t take long then for people to figure out he was contacting _someone_. In the meantime, his job was to be friendly to Sasha and listen in on the others. 

Isaac’s focus paid off. Within a few days he noted that all signs pointed to that the Volos didn’t know the Argents planned to move against them. Or if they did, they were refusing to talk about it. None of the apparent leaders, Nikita, Lev, Tanya, spoke to Isaac directly about the politics, but Isaac listened to their conversations intently every chance he got where it didn’t seem too odd. He had not resorted to lurking outside their doors yet. 

Meals were often useful. Isaac now knew to sit as close to Nikita as possible, which was easy as Sasha tended to want to do the same. “I think we’ll need to send a message. It’s getting too close and group morale could use it as well. If we leave tomorrow night, we’ll be able to make sure the Soloyvana patrol finds the bodies-” 

“Go where?” Isaac, shocked by his own daring, interrupted Nikita. Lev scoffed, seeming offended by Isaac’s rudeness, but Nikita quieted him with a look. Isaac shrank away from Nikita’s gaze. There was no anger there, merely a peculiar intrigue. It made Isaac nervous all the same. 

“Why do you ask, Isaak?” Nikita asked mildly. 

“Well- I-” Isaac was unsure of where to go from here, especially as that authoritative trio was now all staring at him intently. Sasha looked between them with some anxiety. Isaac took a deep breath. “Because I want to help. I’ve been waiting for the chance to actually _do_ something, and it sounded like- well, from what I caught- like you were planning on showing the hunters what there is to be afraid of.” Isaac paused, still focused on remaining honest, in case Tanya were listening too closely. “I want to be there for that.” 

“You still shouldn’t be listening in and inviting yourself-” Lev moved to scold him but went silent when Nikita raised a hand. 

“It’s alright, Lev. I’m sure Isaak didn’t think he was doing any harm,” Nikita said. Isaac felt a familiar anxiety grow at these words. Didn’t _think_ he was doing any harm? Meaning, he _had_ broken some rule of respect? Nikita continued. “You’re right, Isaak. We are planning on traveling to a border town. Some humans have chased a small pack out of their home. They believe they can get away with this because there are still some Soloyvana who can protect them. We were planning on going there and killing the transgressors to push the remaining hunters further away. As long as we have them running, they aren’t trying to invade our homes right?” Nikita paused. Isaac said nothing, hanging on to every word, waiting for him to get to the point. Nikita seemed to warm to this after Isaac’s initial interruption. “Would you like to come, Isaak?” 

“I- Yeah. I would. You mean I can?” Isaac was shocked by his own luck. “I’m allowed to?” 

Nikita gave him a smile that was too fond for accepting an invitation to murder. “It will be very dangerous, and I don’t know you all that well, Isaak. I don’t know if it would be a good idea.” Isaac’s hopes deflated. Maybe all he had done was rouse suspicion. 

“I could come too, Nikita,” Sasha spoke up. Isaac looked at him. “If you don’t think he’s ready… You know me. I am. And I think he could help us too.” 

Nikita glanced between them curiously. “It looks like you have a supporter, Isaak. Okay. You two can come.” 

“Yes!” Sasha turned and clapped Isaac on the shoulder. 

“_But_,” of course there was a ‘but’. “You both need to follow our orders. If we tell you to wait or run or fight, you do so without question, you understand?” 

“Of course,” Sasha’s response was immediate. Nikita looked to Isaac. 

Isaac knew this was a test. All of this. Isaac stared unblinkingly into Nikita’s calculating gaze. He had to pass. “I understand.” 

Isaac waited until late that night to update his family, looking over at Sasha sleeping across from him for signs of movement. 

_I am going on a mission with Nikita. Tomorrow night. All I know is it is at a town near the border between Volos and Soloyvana. They are planning on killing people. They say they chased out a pack, but I don’t have details. If I can give you a location I will, but I don’t know if we should act. I’ll go, learn what I can, and try and keep their trust._

It was all Isaac had so far. All he could do was lay awake and worry about things out of his control. 

When the time came, Isaac was made aware of how often this seemed to happen to him. Derek sending him and Erica to test Lydia, the strange anticipation as he returned to school with a mission. How different it was with Scott, the silent solidarity that came with being on the bike behind him, the speeches and promises once they arrived. How even stranger it was early on when Scott told him to be careful, when Scott _worried_ about him. Then with the Argents, his first hunt, how everyone underestimated him and how despite the need for secrecy he couldn’t help but beg them to show mercy. How that night was what outed him to David and led to a lot of pain. 

Here he was, not a hero’s mission, not a hunt, in the back of a van with strangers once more to go into a fight. Isaac wasn’t as naïve or weakened by grief as he had been with the Argents years ago now. Surely he was strong enough to not risk himself by acting out of turn. Really, Isaac didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if there was enough Argent in him to remain cold, or if the McCall in him would always win out. Or if maybe he was capable of making a decision without their influence. Unlikely. 

Isaac did not have a location to give his family, that was his other concern. Although he had checked early this morning, to see if his family had any instructions. 

_DO NOT ENGAGE. OBSERVE. REPORT BACK. YOUR SECURITY COMES FIRST. DO NOT ACT._

Helpful. Isaac hated doing nothing, but it seemed that was his job for now. Isaac only found out where they were going on the drive there. A town called Gavsky which was four hours away. Isaac thought he might lose it. The van had seats along the walls, facing each other, which did make things feel less claustrophobic, but certainly not enough. A stranger was pressed shoulder to shoulder with him to his left, Sasha to his right. Isaac noted that the windows couldn’t be opened. Great. The general chatter in Russian around him was difficult to follow, especially since he was already stressed dealing with the fact that he was trapped in a metal shell. 

“Are you nervous?” Sasha asked him, leaning in close to make sure he could be heard over the din. Isaac tried not to get caught up in how close he was. How those grey eyes came with a certain intensity, that he had pale freckles across already pale cheeks, and how his jaw was almost like Scott’s, if not a bit more straightened out… 

“Isaak?” Sasha caught his attention again. “Are you?” 

“Am I what?” 

Sasha tilted his head teasingly. “Are you nervous?” He spoke slower, seeming to think it was the language barrier slowing Isaac down, rather than the fact that Sasha was still leaned in very close. “You’re acting nervous.” 

“Am I?” Isaac said. He looked to Sasha’s legs which hadn’t stopped bouncing with the sort of quiet anxiety that made him think of Stiles. Isaac shook himself. For some reason comparing Sasha to _Stiles_ of all people grossed him out. Maybe it was because Sasha almost reminded him of Allison for several reasons, and Allison occupied a very different place in his heart than Stiles did, thankfully. Isaac remembered he was supposed to give an answer. “I guess. You seem anxious too.” 

Sasha scoffed. “Good call. I _am_ a little anxious, actually,” he said sarcastically. His teasing was _really_ starting to remind Isaac of Allison. Isaac had to get his head _out of it_. Whatever this was. “If something goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you, you know. You dragged me into this.” 

“You _volunteered._” Isaac shot back lightly. “If anything, you vouching for me got us here.” 

Rather than tease back, Sasha grew serious, finally pulling away from Isaac to what little space they had between them. Isaac wished he hadn’t. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it,” Isaac’s words grew soft in a way he hadn’t known himself to be capable of. He was used to being the fragilest person around. “We both chose to be here. For ourselves. Either way, we’ll have each other’s backs, right?” 

Sasha gave him a little smile that was still covering that fear. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Isaac didn’t know what else to say. 

They let things grow quiet. The other wolves in the van were talking about _football_, the proper kind, not the American one. Isaac was surprised. He didn’t think werewolves like this would be into sports, let alone have a sense of pride in _human_ teams. The only one not chatting was the same vaguely terrifying werewolf Isaac had seen his first day here. He remained slouched against the back wall, eyes still blue, teeth still out. It seemed he was always like that. Isaac also noted that no one was sitting beside him. It made Isaac wonder if he made everyone else as nervous as he made him. Isaac wanted to ask Sasha about him, but was also quite anxious about being overheard by the man. 

Still, they had only been driving for an hour. Isaac had to talk about _something_ or else the walls would really start to close in. 

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind if we don’t talk about something,” Isaac looked back to Sasha. “And _not_ football.” 

“You not a sports guy?” Sasha teased. “You’re built like you are.” 

Isaac tried to ignore the compliment, but his slight flush proved otherwise. “Not football. I played…” Isaac had no idea what the word for lacrosse was in Russian. He tried in english. “Lacrosse..?” 

“_Lakross_,” Sasha provided. Oh. So basically the same but different pronunciation. “I know nothing about it.” 

“The European version would be rugby, I guess,” Isaac said. 

“Oh! I know rugby. Not well, but I’ve seen some games on TV,” Sasha said. 

“They’re similar in the way they’re played. They both get pretty aggressive,” Isaac shrugged. 

“I’m not a big sports guy,” Sasha admitted. He gestured to himself as if his scrawniness explained this. “I was a runner for my school. Didn’t know how useful that would be later in life,” he added with a sardonic laugh. Isaac could guess what he meant by that. It made him wonder if this was how other people felt when he joked about his dad. He had known it made people uncomfortable, but it was different to experience it from the other end. 

“You ran in secondary school?” Isaac refocused. 

“Yeah. I was okay at it, not exactly a winner, I mean, at my school I was, but compared to others of our kind? Average, really,” Sasha was humble about it. Still, Isaac had more questions. 

“So- wait- you went to a school. With humans?” Isaac asked. 

Sasha looked at him as if he was joking. Isaac wasn’t. “Um, yes I went to a school. With humans. Did you really think we all grew up in the wilderness with only other werewolves?” Sasha glanced to the feral man at the back of the van before quickly looking away. “I grew up just outside Cherepovets, in a shitty little apartment with three other siblings. I was the youngest and the only boy. With _three_ older sisters,” Sasha rolled his eyes at the thought. “Them and my mom and dad, _and_ my mom’s brother, _and_ his daughter,” Sasha listed it off. “That’s just the ones who were living with us. My dad’s parents, live maybe a half hour away with my dad’s brother and sister and their kids. His father was the alpha.” 

“Hey,” Isaac had a question come to mind. “How does all that work? Like, when your parents got married, who joined what pack? Or did they sort of overlap, like your parents are sorta a part of each other’s packs. And whose pack are _you_ a part of?” 

Sasha seemed startled by the question. “I _think_ it sort of depends. Like some couples just naturally pick one alpha to follow, or maybe they marry an omega or a turned human. Some omegas marry to be a part of pack, other times they sort of coexist with their own alphas, which can get tricky, because technically they aren’t in the same pack. And their kids would end up naturally choosing one to follow. This didn’t happen for me, but apparently things would just _click._ That link would just be there.” 

“Weird,” Isaac tried to wrap his head around the odd politics of the way pack bonds worked. Then again, Isaac couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he switched loyalty to Scott. He was bitterly aware of the fact that even after Derek had kicked him out, he _had_ been his alpha. Just before Derek lost his abilities as an alpha, Isaac was still trying to follow him in some way. Maybe even then Isaac had just been acting out of obligation, not truth. He had naturally wanted to follow Scott even before he moved in with him… It all blurred together, but it was true that, wanting or not, Isaac’s loyalty had shifted. And that bond was beyond his choice, even if he was glad with how it had worked out. 

Shit. He was an omega now, wasn’t he? The thought had crossed his mind while he was living with the Argents, isolated from all other werewolves, but it hadn’t really mattered until now, when he was surrounded by others of his kind all dedicated to the same cause with the same pack bond. That emptiness that had followed him since he left Beacon Hills he had pinned as grief, but maybe it was more. Maybe it was the loss of a pack. He didn’t _want_ to be an omega. Not to say he had any interest with forming a pack bond with this group - as if it was a choice - but it was more than that feeling that was _pack_, than that strength of being connected, Isaac wanted to be a part of Scott’s pack. He hoped out of what he considered a naïve desperation that he still had that pack bond. This far away, after so much time apart, he couldn’t even imagine what that feeling was anymore. If there was any way it was still there. 

Isaac had to refocus. “So, you said that didn’t happen for you. How not?” 

“My mom’s parents are dead, so I’ve only ever known my dad’s father as my alpha, it’s just always been that way. My mom’s alpha was her mom. When she died, my mom’s older sister became alpha, but my mom just sort of… shifted over to my dad’s pack. Her and her sister didn’t have that kind of bond. My mom’s parents, they died before I was born. Hunters, of course-” Sasha’s casual tone cut off. He grew distant, looking almost sick. “Guess my dad’s parents are dead from hunters too, now.” The conversation ground to a painful halt. 

Isaac had to say something. What the hell did people _say_ to shit like this? Every time Scott offered an unsure ‘it’ll be okay’ and ‘I’m so sorry’, Isaac had been a little jaded about their worthlessness, but really, the fact that Scott had managed to offer enough to calm him was a goddamn miracle. Of course, Scott had always been something to strive towards. At this point Isaac should be living his life under the policy of WWSMD (What would Scott McCall do?) 

After a moment of hesitation, Isaac put his arm around Sasha’s shoulder, pulling him closer. It was what Scott had done for him. When there were no words, Scott had simply held onto him. Sasha seemed to tense and Isaac was about to pull away, already feeling flustered by crossing a boundary, but Sasha leaned against him. Isaac was struck my a mixture of relief and pride. He was no longer the one in desperate need of help, and he could help someone else. He could do the right thing. 

Or so he hoped. That proved to be more difficult once they reached their destination. Isaac wanted to ask what the plan was. He felt it wasn’t his place to. They were just parked on the street by a row of apartment complexes. The roads were falling apart, the buildings had bars on the windows, there was no one outside. This was not a nice neighborhood. The only hunters Isaac had met had been on the more upper class side of things. 

There was no discussion of strategy. Isaac had been in a hundred more fights since leaving Beacon Hills, but those all came with some semblance of _planning_. Nikita went up to one of the buildings and checked the address like they were simply paying a visit. That is, until he nodded to Lev who kicked the door down, the lock splintering the wooden frame easily. Isaac’s heart jumped to his throat, forcing himself to follow the group upstairs. _What about the police? These are hunters and we just gave them a very loud warning._

Isaac was behind. The more seasoned fighters went ahead of him and Sasha. Sasha looked how Isaac felt, a little green and shaky. Isaac forced himself to steady. They couldn’t both be falling apart, and Isaac had been through this many times before. He knew how to fight. The issue was he hadn’t been on _this_ side of the fight in a long time. 

There was already shouting before they made it to the third floor, where Lev had plowed his way through another door. No guns had gone off yet, and surely that was a good sign. The shouting was not. Isaac didn’t know what was happening. It had been mere seconds and already Isaac wanted to find a way to stop this. It was a family. They hadn’t warned _hunters_ of their arrival, this was a _family_. There were _toys_ on the floor, alongside a man already bleeding from the forehead. That man was not the one shouting. Rather it was a woman pressing herself against one of the doors, clinging to the doorframe. Isaac couldn’t translate what she was saying, her words blurring together in her hysteria. 

His first hunt with the Argents had been a fight. He hadn’t agreed with it then, either, but it had been _fair_, for christ’s sake. This was an execution. 

The man who stayed turned grabbed her and dragged her away from the door, covering her mouth with a clawed hand. She had only resisted to prevent them from going into the room she had been guarding, other than that she made no move to protect herself. 

“Please, she has nothing to do with this! She didn’t know, please just leave her,” the man on the ground pleaded with Nikita, who looked colder than Isaac had ever seen him. “I’ll do whatever you want-” He was silenced by Lev stepping on his back, pressing him into the ground. This wasn’t justice, it was humiliation. 

What was Isaac meant to do? He couldn’t just stand there and watch, but he had a feeling Nikita would be less inclined to tolerate him speaking out than Marie had been so long ago. Isaac couldn’t help but think then of Marie’s body. How the people he was with now had torn it apart to _send a message_ as they were planning to do now. 

“Why would we give that to you? Why would we show mercy when you didn’t do the same for your neighbors?” Nikita’s voice was so soft, so calm and almost teasing. “Hm? Did you really think that you get to decide anything? _You_ decided to force that family out, yes? Why’s that?” 

“They were frightening my family, they-” 

Nikita kicked him in the side of the head. Isaac had to give the woman credit, she seemed terrified, but still tried to free herself from the grip of the werewolf holding her when her husband went down. Although he wasn’t down for the count, the man spat blood -and a few teeth -before glowering back up at Nikita. Isaac had no idea what he could do. It would be easier to believe Nikita that this man had attacked a pack, but how could he follow that blindly? 

“Please show mercy. I did not kill anyone, I showed mercy. Leave my wife, leave my family alone, please.” Isaac had no clue how the man still thought he could reason his way out of this. 

Lev yanked him up by his hair. “The only mercy is that their deaths will be quick. You will not be so lucky,” he snarled, eyes flashing blue. 

“No- No please! Don’t do this!” He fought back viciously now as Nikita approached his wife. 

“We’ve gotta do something,” Isaac spoke to Sasha, frozen. 

“We _are_ doing something,” Sasha replied and there was no remorse in his words. 

Isaac reached out and held onto his arm. “Sasha- she didn’t _do_ anything, we’ve got to-” 

“You don’t _know_ that,” Sasha yanked away. 

It all stopped, Nikita, the hunter, Sasha, when that door the woman had been guarding opened. 

There was a _kid_. Isaac had seen the toys and such scattered around the apartment, but that was different from seeing a fucking eight year old throw himself at Nikita as he advanced on his mother. Nikita stopped, if only out of surprise. The boy was desperately trying to push him back, hitting him on the chest despite it clearly doing nothing. Nikita finally looked to Isaac and Sasha for help. 

“Would you mind?” Nikita held the boy by his arm, shoving him in their direction. Isaac didn’t move, so Sasha took over for Nikita and held the boy still. He still kept struggling against Sasha’s hold on him, even as Sasha kept his arms pinned to his side easily. 

“You’re not gonna kill the kid, right?” Isaac heard himself speak up without really processing it. Nikita looked equally surprised. The room seemed to grow thick with an odd sort of silence, even the humans stopped to watch this exchange. Isaac hoped that they didn’t think he could save them, that they realized he had no authority here. Nikita seemed to be waiting for him to continue. “I mean- he’s just a kid,” Isaac felt sick with anxiety, not because of what Nikita might do to him, but because of what this could do to his mission here. 

“He’s just a human,” Lev spoke up first. “No- Worse- he’s the child of a hunter. Are we supposed to let him go?” He spoke scoffingly, as if Isaac was the one being irrational. 

“He’s just a _kid_,” Isaac repeated himself, he had no clue what else he could say. What was needed to _justify_ what he was asking? 

“Isaak, you understand that given the chance that boy would kill us all,” Nikita paused, seeming almost sympathetic, and put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac forced himself not to pull away. 

“Yeah, maybe because you’re trying to murder his parents. He wasn’t born a hunter,” Isaac wasn’t sure if he was brave or stupid for snapping at him. Isaac had to go about this differently. “Please, Nikita. We’re better than this. We can’t be like them,” he tried to lean into that superiority complex. 

“It will be okay, Isaak,” Nikita patted him gently on the cheek but those words did nothing to settle the anxiety in his chest. 

The turned man snapped the woman’s neck. Sasha, looking white as a sheet, was quick to cover the boy’s eyes. Still, the child had already seen it. And he could hear his father screaming. 

“Boyra!” Nikita scolded the man responsible. It felt like an underreaction, considering he had just killed someone. The man, Boyra, just shrugged. Nikita sighed wearily. “This has not gone as it should. Let’s just get this over with- Lev?” 

Lev nodded and slit the man’s throat with his claws. His wails of grief were cut off into gurgling gasps for air which took far too long to quiet. Sasha still had one arm around the boy’s chest, keeping him pinned there, his hand still covering his eyes. 

Isaac looked away. That is, until Lev turned towards Sasha and the kid. 

“Wait- You can’t-” Isaac stepped between them, hands raised passively as if somehow that could stop them. “Please, just think about what you’re about to do-” 

“Get out of my way,” Lev snarled, shoving Isaac aside with hands covered in blood. 

Isaac was about to ruin this entire mission, tear apart any chance he had of being useful to the Argents, but nothing was going to let Lev get past him, not without a fight. 

“I can’t let you do this,” Isaac once again got between Lev and Sasha, claws forming almost subconsciously as his eyes glowed yellow. Isaac had been prepared for a fight, still, Isaac was surprised by the blinding pain as claws tore through his cheek, sending him staggering back. Isaac felt a familiar fear rise up as he prepared for another blow. 

“Lev, stand down!” Nikita held his friend back. 

Isaac felt himself slowly start to heal, but still, Lev had torn through his cheek, had been fully prepared to keep hurting him, not only had Isaac thought Lev had more restraint, but he had a feeling Nikita had waited to stop things from going to far. 

“You cannot actually be planning on bending to some outsider,” Lev said. 

“Isaak is not an outsider,” Nikita said firmly. “He is one of us now.” Nikita turned back to him. “We’ll let the boy live, alright?” 

Isaac could only nod, his claws gone, his hand pressed into his bloody cheek. Isaac knew that all three werewolves in this room could hear his heart racing. That didn’t let it slow. 

“He is too young to be bitten,” Lev muttered. “What kind of life do you think he will have?” Isaac could understand that in Lev’s warped sense of logic he had thought he was being merciful. That didn’t change what he had been about to do. 

“Sasha, put the boy in the closet, then move the couch in front of it,” Nikita didn’t acknowledge what Lev had said, merely gave out orders. Sasha nodded. The boy had stopped fighting, he had gone limp in Sasha’s grip, in shock. “Isaak, know that I did this because I understand where you are coming from. We’re all on the same side here.” 

“I know,” Isaac’s voice was shakier than he had hoped it would be. “Thank you,” he added, hoping he could salvage whatever loyalty he had held before all this. Isaac could only hope that he hadn’t ruined any chance at getting information for the Argents. If he had managed to avoid suspicion thus far, that was definitely gone now. Maybe they wouldn’t jump to him being a hunter spy, but they knew he wasn’t truly one of them, and that was dangerous enough. 

Still, Nikita seemed to accept this. “Boyra- stay and prepare the bodies. Call the locals before you leave. I think it’s best the rest of us leave now.” Isaac’s anxiety only grew at this, knowing he was the reason. And any special attention here was bad attention. He was quick to follow Sasha out of the building. 

“Isaak,” Nikita grabbed onto his arm, stopping him so it was just them in the stairwell. “You are one of us, I mean that, but what you did today goes against all I’ve asked of you. This time none of our kind got hurt, but know that that kind of disloyalty can end bloody. You spared that man’s child, but know that he has killed many of our kind. He let that pack flee, he didn’t hunt them down, but this is an exception to the rule. People like him will only ever see our kind as something to be put down. You cannot disobey me again. This is not a conflict where you can stay in the middle, either you’re with us or you’re with them, and I want to believe you know where you belong.” 

“I- I do,” Isaac managed. Nikita spoke very carefully, but Isaac wasn’t naïve. Isaac had messed up on his first hunt with the Argents by showing too much loyalty to the enemy. That had had consequences, and he had a feeling this would too. Nikita's little speech was a threat. One he needed to listen to, even if it meant next time around he had to sacrifice his humanity. 

When they returned to the homestead, Sasha did not wait up for him, he hurried ahead back to their room, trying very deliberately to slam the door on Isaac when he followed, Isaac pushed ahead anyways. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Sasha burst out the moment they were alone. “I went with you- I vouched for you!” He pointed back at him accusingly. Isaac knew he was more anxious than angry. 

“You can’t be serious,” Isaac crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw you. You weren’t okay with them killing that kid either.” 

Sasha moved to speak before stopping, mouth still hanging open. “You don’t know that,” he finally said. 

“Oh yeah?” Isaac moved closer. Sasha didn’t pull away. “Then why’d you cover his eyes?” 

“What?” They were close enough now that Isaac could feel Sasha’s breath with his words. 

“If you were okay with them killing the kid, _why did you cover his eyes?_ What would it matter if he saw his parents die if he was gonna die anyways?” Isaac pushed. “You can’t expect me to believe you were okay with that.” 

Silence, their faces mere inches apart, eye contact that was just as intense as a fight. 

Sasha finally pulled away. “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Sasha spoke up. “But the people they just killed would’ve killed us given the chance. I trust Nikita. They’re the only ones actually doing something to help us.” 

Isaac felt disappointment creep up. He didn’t know what he had hoped for. Sasha was one of them, and it seemed he was in too deep to pull back. Still, Isaac couldn’t force himself to pull away from the only other yellow eyes here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the pacing is a bit faster in this fic. I have certain scenes/points that I've had planned out for this story, but I can't be bothered connecting them organically, if that makes sense. I'd rather just tell the story I've been planning and get Isaac back to Beacon Hills before another 40 chapters passes by lol. Still, I hope you enjoy the ride!


	4. Chapter 4

_Isaac, you cannot do things like that. I know why you did it, but you cannot endanger this mission for the sake of a single life. Next time if you can get us the location ahead of time, we might be able to intervene without drawing suspicion. Be warned: those kinds of conflicts are not what we’re worried about. We need you to try and get closer to the main conflicts, but ONLY do so if there isn’t risk to you. Be safe._

_-J_

Isaac didn’t know what he had expected. Of course Jeanie would need to scold him for doing something stupid. Still, Isaac couldn’t find it within himself to truly regret protecting that boy. 

“Hey.” 

Isaac jumped, putting away his phone, hoping his skittishness wasn’t unusual. 

Sasha didn’t acknowledge it. “I’m sorry about yesterday. It… it wasn’t your fault that I decided to come. And I don’t know why I blamed you and acted like that…” 

“It’s okay. I was out of line, talking to Nikita like that,” Isaac said. “He let us come along and I acted out.” 

“He won’t hold it against you. He’s better than that.” Somehow Isaac didn’t believe him. “Either way, I volunteered us to help out in the med bay. I don’t know if they’ll let us go back out with them any time soon, but you said you wanted to help. Hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac felt relieved that he had something to do. “Anything I can do.” 

Their med bay was different both from the professionalism of the Argent’s and the makeshift work of being sewed up on Bhatt’s countertops. It felt oddly military in aesthetic. It was in an old bedroom, cots pressed against the walls, and metal boxes stacked underneath a wooden table. There was a strong earthly scent in the air, and the medical supplies left out -if you could call them medical supplies -were strange tinctures of leaves and powders in tins. It was morning. That meant a team had returned from a mission in the night. Only two patients were present, a man biting his knuckles while a powder was pressed into a bullet wound. The other was the werewolf who had been shot in the leg days ago. She looked pale with fever. 

“Mia? You’re still sick?” Sasha questioned her, and Isaac agreed. Werewolves didn’t get infected wounds or fevers. 

“They don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mia said gloomily, dark circles around her eyes and mud blonde hair damp with sweat. It seriously looked like she was dying. “Whatever was in the bullet- it wasn’t wolfsbane, apparently. So they can’t use it to cure it. It _burned_ like wolfsbane.” 

“Have they tried burning it out?” Isaac asked, once again unsure of what the hell made him think to speak up. Mia and Sasha both stared at him. “Is… is it too much to try and burn out?” 

“_What_ are you talking about?” Sasha asked quizzically. 

“You know… you burn the poison out… stops it from spreading, kills all the tissue it’s touching or something,” Isaac realized how insane he sounded. 

“I’m sorry- you mean to tell me _that’s_ how you take care of wolfsbane poisoning?” Mia asked. 

“Not always,” Isaac grew defensive. “Sometimes I don’t have the bullet or whatever to make a cure, so I’ve burned it out before. Only a few times. Before it gets too bad.” 

“Isn’t that… _painful?_” Sasha asked. 

“I mean, yeah,” Isaac said. “I didn’t say it was the best way. Better than dying from a knife to your throat.” 

“You want to explain?” Sasha asked. 

“Not really,” Isaac couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation off the top of his head. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna wash these,” Sasha seemed unable to deal with Isaac’s strangeness and was quick to carry dirty laundry downstairs. Isaac didn’t really know what to do with himself. 

“Hey, you’re the one who tried to save that human boy,” Mia called him back. “Takes guts to do something like that.” 

Isaac almost accepted her praise, feeling like maybe others would have taken his side in things like that, but her words caught him, “wait, what do you mean _tried?”_

Mia looked amused but also filled with pity. It made his anxiety far worse. “Please, what do you mean ‘tried’?” Isaac repeated. 

“I probably am not the best person to tell you this,” Mia bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly gentle, but she wasn’t mocking him for being naïve. “Did you actually think they were just going to let him go?” 

“Well- I-” Isaac was too horrified to feel embarrassed. “What happened? What _actually_ happened?” 

“From what I heard, Boyra stayed behind to clean up,” Mia said, like that somehow explained everything. 

Isaac wasn’t stupid. He knew what that meant, but some desperate part of him had to ask. “What happened? What did he do?” 

“What do you think? Stayed behind, killed the kid, set up the bodies for the police,” Mia said. 

Isaac felt sick. “Why’re you telling me this?” 

Mia shrugged. “I don’t particularly agree with killing some kid. Not that _I_ have a say, but I don’t appreciate Nikita lying to people to keep their loyalty.” 

“You don’t agree with it, but you’re still here, you’re still fighting for them,” Isaac realized how dangerous it was to be so openly angry, even if this woman seemed to agree with him. 

“I pick my battles,” Mia shrugged. “I think they’re doing more good than bad.” 

“And what good is that?” Isaac had to realize what kind of trouble this could lead to, but he had never been good at holding back his anger. 

Mia tilted her head at him curiously. “Why are you here, then?” 

This was his chance to pull back, and despite not wanting to, he knew it was the smart choice. “I do believe in what’s being done here, and I want to believe that, but…” Isaac’s disgust returned and he couldn’t help but quietly ask again. “...did they really kill that kid?” 

Mia did seem to feel bad, or at least enough to sound apologetic. “They always clean up after. I can’t believe Nikita lied to you. Guess it’s part of his job, keep the troops placated, let them deal with the fallout when the war is done.” 

Isaac felt worry join his horror at this information. It seemed Nikita was comfortable lying to him. Not to say that was unexpected, but if he now felt the need to keep things from Isaac, he would lose a lot of usefulness to the others. Not to say he had managed to be helpful so far, no one told him much. 

“How’d you get hurt, anyways?” Isaac asked. 

“Um. I got shot. By a hunter,” she said dryly. 

“No, I mean, like, where? Doing what?” Isaac tried again. 

“We’ve been trying to push into Ukraine, but that’s where the Solovyova are holding fast. One of their only strongholds left. They fought back _hard_,” Mia grew bitter. “Killed some of our own...” 

“Do you think you guys’ll be able to take Ukraine? Do they have a main base or something?” 

“Well, technically the big hideout of theirs is some property more in the country there, there’s more scattered around, but we think that’s where they’re holing up, a last stand and all that,” Mia seemed to view this as simply conversational, Isaac had to keep it that way, but he needed to know if they were going to make a move. 

“So are they going to try and take them out? Kick them out of Ukraine?” Isaac hoped his pushing came across as enthusiasm. 

“Well, yeah, that’s the next big move,” Mia said. “_I_ won’t be there for it of course, not like I’m gonna be on my feet by the end of the week,” she said gloomily. Isaac felt his heart pick up. _by the end of the week_

“That’s… that’s soon,” Isaac said a little hoarsely. Did he have enough information? Would the Argents have enough time to make plans? “I’m guessing they’re gonna send a proper army to take them out, right? More than a little team.” 

“Oh definitely,” Mia scoffed, as if that were obvious. “A few hundred at least. We think they’re still spread out a bit, but we know a lot of them are circling back there to prepare to punch back, better too many than too little.” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna go find Sasha,” Isaac stood, wanting to leave before Mia questioned him further, still, before he left, “I hope they figure out whatever’s wrong with you.” 

Mia looked at him as if she couldn’t figure him out. Isaac preferred it that way. “Thanks.” 

Isaac didn’t know why he needed to find Sasha. Well, he knew why he _wanted_ to, but that didn’t make it a good idea. He wanted Sasha to hear what Mia had told him, to maybe see more truth behind the veil this pack drew around them. Isaac refocused on the other part of his conversation with Mia. He had more important things to do than try to convince Sasha of something he wouldn’t want to hear. 

_Talked to one of their fighters. They’re planning on attacking a big outpost of the Solovyova’s in Ukraine. A big property in the country. It’s supposed to happen by the end of the week. THIS week. They’re planning on pushing them out of Ukraine if they can manage it. They’re sending a few hundred to fight, apparently. That’s all I know. It’s sounds like they’re going to hit hard._

Isaac wished he had more to give them. Or that he could somehow do more on this end. It wasn’t his job to tell them to evacuate or plan to fight back, but he still wished he could help on that front instead of just sending a fucking email. Isaac knew that this was important, but he felt so useless. He couldn’t help protect the Argents and apparently he couldn’t even save some kid. Still, Isaac was no longer susceptible to whatever heroism the Volos projected. They’d killed some kid and had lied to make sure Isaac stayed obedient. He would play his part, alright, but he had no intention of helping them. He wished he was like Scott. That he could make some brave choice with absolute certainty and moral intent. Maybe Scott didn’t find it as easy as he seemed to project. It wasn’t like Isaac could ask him. Loneliness hadn’t left him alone since coming here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, I'm hoping to write more often, so hopefully the wait/word count will be better next time!


	5. Chapter 5

Isaac had not lost any of his anxiety or helplessness. Finally he had given Jeanie something of value, but now he was just left waiting. He couldn’t expect Jeanie to explain the details of their plan, especially considering where he was. Still, there was something especially concerning about their last contact being

_Whatever you do- MAKE SURE YOU’RE NOT THERE. You cannot be there when this happens._

That was it. No _good to know_ or _we’ll do something_. Just that and radio silence. Isaac doubted he would be allowed to go into a fight like this anyways, but he knew it was happening. The house felt oddly empty. A few older betas, him and Sasha, Mia who was still injured, and the children of the packs who stayed in the woods. The vans had left that afternoon and as the hours ticked by there was no contact from them. Sasha thought his anxiety was worry for those doing the attacking, not the hunters who they intended to eradicate. 

“Hey, they’ll be okay. They know what they’re doing,” Sasha tried to console him. “The best of the best. The hunters won’t know what hit them. They won’t know we’re coming too.” 

“It’s their home base. I’m sure it’s protected. And how do we know they’re still there? Maybe they smartened up and split up,” Isaac tried to make himself feel better. 

“Well, if they _did_ split up, it’ll be harder for them to regroup. We’ll track them down eventually. If they can’t regroup, we’ll just pick them off,” Sasha was doing his best to be helpful, but Isaac just wished he’d shut up. 

“People are gonna get hurt,” Isaac muttered, he kept pacing the length of the livingroom. It was empty for a change, and that did little to ease his nerves. The fire going was the only sound. It wasn’t enough. Isaac needed a distraction. 

Sasha agreed. “Sit down. Come on, let’s play another round,” he shuffled a deck of cards. Sasha had been teaching him to play durak, it was enough to keep them busy, but Isaac knew they were both listening outside for the sound of cars returning. Instead the sound of an awkward gait shuffling downstairs met them. 

“It’s too fucking quiet in this house,” Mia, a crutch under one arm, settled in across from them on the couch. She looked worse. Pale as death and Isaac could hear the tremble in her chest when she breathed. Whatever was hurting her had spread far beyond her leg, the infection was in her blood now. It made Isaac’s stomach turn. _I can’t feel bad for her. She gets better, she makes things harder for my friends._ That didn’t make him feel any better about watching her die. 

“Want me to deal you in?” Sasha offered. 

Mia looked to the cards. “Durak?” 

“I’m trying to teach Isaak. He keeps on losing,” Sasha teased. He paused. “Mia, are you in pain? Do you want me to get you something?” 

Mia bristled at the implication, sitting up despite it clearly being difficult for her, “shut up and deal.” 

Isaac lost again and by then the game was starting to lose its appeal. It was growing late and still no word from the pack. “I’m gonna get some coffee. Anyone want anything?” 

“Some news would be nice,” Sasha sighed, looking out the front windows again for signs of life. 

Isaac laughed dryly, heading to the kitchen alone. There he got out his phone. No news from Jeanie. 

He hesitated, staring at the empty inbox, a heavy debate going back and forth in his head. He knew what he thought he should do and what he thought he _wanted_ to do, but what was the right thing? There were consequences to his choices, perhaps more now than ever, but how could he do nothing when he could try and help someone? How could he help someone who could do so much harm? 

It sounded so simple, let Mia die, or reach out to Dr. Bhatt to see if he knew what was wrong with her. Mia had disagreed with killing the kid, but not enough to do something about it. Still, did she deserve to die? Did it _matter?_ This wasn’t in the midst of battle, this wasn’t a choice between her or a friend, it was a passive choice. He was, in the moment, deciding to either help or sit back knowing he could have done something. Maybe Bhatt wouldn’t even know what was wrong. It couldn’t hurt, right? 

“You’re fucking stupid, Lahey,” he muttered, but he was already typing out a message. 

_Hey doc, it’s Isaac. I know it’s dangerous for me to contact you but it’s important. Do you know what besides wolfsbane could poison a werewolf? I am okay before you freak out, but I need to know. If there is something- can you make a cure the same way? I promise I’m doing okay here and please don’t ask questions. Or tell anyone. Hope you and Petyr are doing okay. Thanks._

He didn’t give himself the chance to hover over the send button, he just did it. Isaac was confident only Bhatt would see it. Isaac only had his work email, but patient confidentiality meant there wasn’t going to be some baffled administrator reading over his shoulder. Still, he had no clue if Bhatt would respond any time soon. It was a friday and he didn’t think Mia would make it to monday. 

Still he had _done_ something. Somehow that made his anxiety better and so much worse. If Bhatt actually handed him a way to help her, could he really keep that to himself? And if he did offer a cure, wouldn’t they ask how he knew this stuff? Say he cured her, then whatever hunter she ended up killing would be on him. Isaac remembered at the last minute he was supposed to be getting coffee. He didn’t want to wait around for it to brew so instead he got a few drinks in glass bottles -he couldn’t translate the labels but he assumed it was sodas- and returned to the living room. 

Just in time to hear a caravan return to the house. Sasha and Isaac met eyes before rushing outside, Mia following more slowly. At first Isaac was relieved to find the mood of those getting out of the vans far from victorious, but that was soon replaced by an instinctive sense of guilt. There were far too many wounded, but none of them seemed to be bleeding. Over a dozen of those who went out to fight from this compound were being carried out. They were coughing, and their breathing was labored. Isaac didn’t see any bodies, but maybe they’d had to get out and didn’t have time to go back for the dead. Why was he _concerned_ for these people? He was responsible for this. And that he would have to deal with. Tanya was the first conscious familiar face he saw. 

“W-What- what happened?” Sasha asked. 

Tanya shook her head grimly. “Explain later. I need you to get hot water. Boiling water- enough to make steam. We’ve got to clear out their lungs. Isaak-” Isaac was startled by the attention, half expecting accusations. “-help carry people in. Upstairs.” 

Isaac nodded, hurrying to the nearest car, grabbing the legs of a man already being supported by an unfamiliar werewolf. Isaac, this close, could hear that horrible wet wheezing in their breathing, not in the way Mia had grown unsteady, this was far harsher. There was poison in their lungs. The next hours blurred, Isaac’s chest tight with guilt, and his body always occupied moving people upstairs into the overcrowded medical ward and later helping them sit up as they coughed violently. Isaac was damp not with sweat but with steam as Tanya and others who were still well tried desperately to loosen the wolfsbane in their lungs. Each victim received a shot which would stop the wolfsbane from reaching and poisoning their hearts, but that didn’t make the process of removing it from their lungs any less painful. 

_I did this._ Logically he knew that whatever hunters had been there were safe because of him -and of course they would have had to retaliate in some form-but that didn’t make him feel any better, as he held onto these strangers and tried to help them breathe. Regardless of whose side he was on, there was something horrible about watching another person struggle for air, those wheezing, violent coughs as they held onto Isaac as if somehow he could help them. 

There was no time to ask questions for several hours. Once most of the victims could breathe without much difficulty did they have a moment to pause. It was Sasha and Isaac who kept going, those who had been on the mission but were unharmed were still exhausted. Isaac saw Nikita struggling to breathe on the other side of the room, but he seemed more concerned with those around him. 

“What do you think happened?” Sasha asked hoarsely, staring around at the destruction around them. Many of the wounded were sleeping now, their breathing not quite steady. 

_I did. I happened._ “I- I don’t know.” 

“Hey, Tanya- wait-” Sasha stood, stopping Tanya who had passed by the doorway. “I know you just want to sleep, and we’ll cover you for the rest of the night- but, please, what the hell happened?” 

Tanya, clearly exhausted, understood why they needed answers. She sat down beside them in a folding chair. “The house was empty when we got there. Well, houses, their setup was more like a little town, but every fucking building was rigged. We sent in squads in small groups. I think that made all this worse. If we’d all gone in at once, only the first few would’ve gotten hurt, instead every single team had casualties. Mostly injuries, but- but deaths too. It wasn’t instantaneous -I was waiting outside while Nikita’s team went in-” She nodded to her brother, who was asleep or unconscious on the other side of the room. “And it was maybe fifteen seconds after they broke in that the building was flooded with gas. Meant that most of the team was inside when it went off. Everyone tried to get out, but things got panicked and we couldn’t go in and try and help them and risk putting ourselves out of commission, so, whoever couldn’t get out-” Tanya paused, taking a shaky breath, this time from sobs held back rather than poison. “We couldn’t get to them. Whoever made it out while they could still run… they’re the only ones we could help. We managed to keep most of them alive on the journey back, but it was a slaughter, Sasha… It was so hard to organize, to send warnings to those who hadn’t gone inside their buildings yet… We tried to warn them…” Tanya buried her head in her hands. Neither of them expected her to go on. 

“How… how did this happen?” Sasha spoke the question aloud without really expecting an answer. 

“Looks like they abandoned their compound. Don’t know how long ago, can't have been more than a week, our scouts still saw people coming and going before then, but they had enough time to set a deathtrap for us if we came knocking,” Tanya sighed. “They must’ve known staying in a big group like that was dangerous, that’s why _we_ don’t have some fancy base… but I didn’t think the hunters were smart enough to do that. We had guessed that they knew we knew where they were, I guess we- we just didn’t think it through enough.” It seemed Isaac wasn’t the only guilty conscience here. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Isaac finally spoke, voice soft and hoarse with a masked shame. He didn’t know why he said it. He couldn’t keep _pitying_ these people. It was hard enough being here at all, he couldn’t let himself carry the responsibility of being on the other side of the war. 

“Yeah, well, it’s harder not to take the blame when I was the one who stayed outside,” Tanya stared at those around her. “I waited by the car. So everyone else got hurt.” 

“Get some rest, Tanya,” Sasha implored, a hand going to her shoulder. “Please, let us take over for now.” 

Tanya reluctantly nodded. “If something happens…” 

“We’ll wake you right away,” Isaac reassured her. Looking as if a weight had left her, she headed off to bed. 

Isaac turned back to Sasha who seemed to be holding back tears. “How could this happen?” He spoke aimlessly into the room, not expecting an answer. 

“Hey, they’ll be okay,” Isaac didn’t know why he was saying it. How long could he walk this line? Leaking information and being forced to deal with the fallout? 

“I- I need a minute. Can I…?” Sasha stood. 

“Go on. I can keep an eye on everyone,” Isaac gave him his space. Sasha paused, looking as if he wanted to say something more to Isaac, he left without another word. 

Of course only moments after Sasha left did that terrible wheezing cough pick up again. Isaac got up to try and offer some help, realizing then it was Nikita who was struggling to draw breath. Isaac froze, dark thoughts coming to mind. It would be so easy to not help. And equally possible to go over to the man and smother him with a pillow. No one would question it. Everyone here was at risk, and maybe Nikita just didn’t make it, right? If he died it meant the Volos had lost a leader. Maybe even Aloysha, the real target, would come to the compound to try and keep things together… what did he have to lose by taking one more piece off the chess board? 

“Come on, sit up,” Isaac pulled Nikita off the cot, stopping him from choking. Such an imposing man in health felt so weak slumped against Isaac’s side, wholly dependent on Isaac to keep him steady. “Slow down, take deep breaths.” Isaac winced as Nikita coughed up blood, part of him hoping that Nikita would die in the night regardless of his intervention. The fact was, Isaac couldn’t kill the man in cold blood. And if he continued to gain the man’s trust, surely that would be more useful than simply putting him out of commission for some other murderous werewolf to take over. At least that’s what he told himself as he helped the enemy breathe. 

“Thank you, Isaak,” Nikita managed to speak. “You’re being good to our people. I owe you for that.” He put a hand over Isaac’s, who continued to hold the man’s shoulders to keep him upright. 

“Of course,” Isaac refused to look him in the eye, instead staring at the weak bodies around them. 

“Leave me. I am stronger than this,” Nikita dismissed him. “Please, take care of the others. They’ll need you.” 

Isaac continued to hover over the sick well into the night. He had already been staying up late waiting for them to return, but it was approaching 4 and Isaac refused to rest. There was always someone struggling to breathe that he could help. The guilt made it easier to stay awake. 

“Go to bed,” Sasha had returned, seeming to have just woken up. 

“I-” 

“Whatever you’re gonna say, don’t,” Sasha said. “It’s late. Go to bed.” 

Isaac hesitated, staring around at the people who still needed his help. “I don’t wanna leave them.” 

“Go to bed, Isaak,” Sasha pushed him out. “I’ve got it.” 

Isaac gave up, leaving Sasha to it. Before he could crash into bed, there was one last thing he needed to do. Isaac winced as the clock on his phone shined out 4 am. He had to check in. There had been no more updates from Jeanie, nor from Dr. Bhatt about his questions. 

_What the hell did you guys do_

Isaac forced himself to calm, deleting what he had started with. He was on _their_ side. The Volos had broken into _their_ home. 

_I am okay. Whatever you did worked. We’ve got a lot of sick. Some dead, but I didn’t see any of the bodies. The ones who made it back are going to pull through, I think, but for the next few days a lot of them are out of commission. I think the Solovyova are safe for now. And they’re not suspicious. They’re surprised, but right now I think they’re chopping it up to bad luck. I am safe. I think they still trust me well enough. I know why you aren’t cluing me into any plans, what would happen if they found me out, but god, I wish you could. Best of luck from the other side._

Isaac couldn’t bring himself to send Jeanie any resentment, any of them. Isaac gave them that intel and they retaliated. Isaac couldn’t expect any less of them. Didn’t make this any easier. 

A response came by early morning. 

_Good to hear you’re okay. Can you give us any indicator of where you are? What outpost are you at? Soon, if you’re able to._

Isaac was confused by this. Why did Jeanie need to know this now? Did they decide it was too dangerous and they were planning to pick him up? Isaac realized that it would be easy to check maps and figure out his exact location. Apparently the nearest city was 20 miles south. A place called Suzemka. Isaac still couldn’t get his bearings, he’d heard plenty of town names since coming here and none of them really placed for him. Whether the Russian or the isolation, Isaac still felt a little lost. Still, he updated Jeanie, hoping this meant that should he need rescue his family could find him. His _family_. That still felt weird. 

Many of the injured were still on bedrest, meaning Isaac’s time was occupied with guilt and taking care of them. Tanya all but had to tie her brother to the bed to keep him from trying to get back to work. Nikita did seem to be recovering and Isaac wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not. 

“Do you think they’re all gonna make it now?” Sasha asked during a moment of rest. Sasha already appeared weak at the best of times, pale, scrawny, shadowed eyes, but he looked now as if he were about to collapse. “Like, do you think the worst of it is over?” 

“I hope,” was all Isaac could think to say, but from his gloomy tone Sasha could tell Isaac didn’t think so. 

“Mia is gonna die, isn’t she?” Sasha asked quietly. 

Isaac had an answer this time, but not one he wanted to share. Bhatt still hadn’t gotten back to him. Isaac wondered if Bhatt was refusing to respond, fearing their communication might put Isaac in danger. It was a fair concern, but Isaac was desperate for some sense of control, to feel like he could _help_ someone, even if that potential help caused his guilt to grow. Was he betraying his family by trying so hard to aid these people? Maybe Isaac just had a little too much Scott in him now. He wished he could go back to that simple mindset he had had with Derek. There was ‘us’ and there was ‘them’ and Isaac’s only job was to protect one from the other. He knew that simplicity had been a sham, one keeping him in the dark from doing what was right, but that didn’t make his current life -or brooding -any easier. 

“What if the full moon is what kills her? That kind of adrenaline when she’s so sick…” Sasha continued to ask questions Isaac didn’t have answers to. 

“We still have a few days,” Isaac reasoned, “she might not even-” He paused, changing his tone. “She might not be sick anymore by then.” 

“Don’t pretend that you don’t mean ‘dead’,” Sasha said dryly. “I know.” 

“Why didn’t you guys, like amputate her leg or something?” Isaac asked wildly, he knew it wasn’t a reasonable question. 

“We’re werewolves, we don’t _amputate_, we _heal_.” Sasha scoffed. 

“Speaking of, that, and the full moon- what do you guys _do_ on the full moon?” Isaac asked. 

“...do?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you all don’t seem like the type to lock up the ones who can’t anchor,” Isaac tried to explain. 

“What do you mean, ‘anchor’?” Sasha frowned. 

Isaac began to wonder if his initial assumptions about this group had been right, if they were more feral than they appeared. “You know, find a way to stabilize your mind, stay human, control your shift.” 

Sasha laughed, “I don’t think controlling your shift is a very human quality,” he continued to explain more logically, “we do learn to control ourselves on the full moon. To some extent, anyways. Can’t have anyone running into a human cop unsupervised or something. Usually those who can’t… _anchor_ are sort of… supervised. Higher wolves in the pack sort of push them away from trouble. Does lead to some fights, but that’s part of the fun, you know? Just letting go like that.” 

“So, you like the full moon.” 

“Well, yeah,” Sasha seemed to think it was obvious. “That’s when our power is the closest, that’s when that kind of strength really _holds_ you.” 

Boyd’s words came back to Isaac with some semblance of cruelty. _The full moon? That feeling? It was worth it._

“I haven’t had a… a _good_ full moon in a long time,” Isaac eventually spoke, pushing Boyd to the back of his mind. 

“Was it bad? Where you were staying before? With the emissaries?” Sasha grew concerned. 

“No, not at all,” Isaac was again quick to defend them. “I just… I couldn’t do much in Paris. It was mostly just staying quiet until it was over.” 

“That cannot be healthy,” Sasha shook his head. “How did you not go stir crazy?” 

Isaac shrugged, forced yet again to think of his dead pack trapped for months. “There are worse ways to get through it.” He pulled away from the dark thoughts. “Anyways- like I said, what do you all do on the full moon?” 

“We just go out, I guess,” Sasha shrugged, as if he was making any sense. “Just go outside, maybe do some hunting, I know the packs in the area do their own thing. Sometimes some of us go looking for a fight. Sometimes that means fighting each other, sparring, or it means… wandering a little further. Mostly it’s just, you know, roughhousing, and running and just letting go of all that pretend shit.” 

“Pretend shit?” 

“You know,” Sasha didn’t seem to know how to translate all this to a bitten wolf who knew next to nothing about them. “That stuff that limits us the rest of the month, all that stuff telling us to be quiet and rational and _human_. That can’t hold us back.” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been like that,” Isaac said. A pause. “I don’t know if I’ve _ever_ been like that.” There had been so few joyful full moons with his original pack that he wasn’t sure what he was meant to feel. Peace with Scott wasn’t the same as having a pack. It was just the two of them. Derek wasn’t one for a pack party on the full moon and despite Stiles and Lydia and Allison being _pack_, there wasn’t a place for them under the full moon either. Boyd and Erica. Isaac had to accept pack life would never be what it was meant to be for him again. His first pack. The one that he had felt bonded to the moment each of them were bitten. 

And he missed Scott. He missed _that_ pack. 

“You won’t be alone, you know,” Sasha interrupted his brooding, mistaking it for anxiety about the coming full moon. “I know you spent a long time with those humans, and I want you to know that doesn’t change anything. You’re with us now.” 

It did not have the calming effect Sasha had intended. Isaac could not forget the brutality all of these loyal, compassionate people had caused. They had killed a _kid_. Isaac couldn’t forgive that simply because they accepted him unconditionally. He didn’t know if he was more susceptible to microcosms of kindness as he had been absolutely starved of it until a few years beforehand, or if this entire cult really managed to be that alluring. Isaac had hoped that his stilted and paranoid upbringing would allow him to avoid these traps, but Isaac still felt compelled to swear loyalty to anyone who was kind to him. When was he going to grow out of that? 

“Thanks. I’m… I’m gonna go see if Tanya needs help,” Isaac was quick to remove himself from the conversation, unnerved by how drawn he was to Sasha’s gentle concern. 

“Okay,” Sasha seemed hurt by how cold Isaac had become, but he didn’t follow. Isaac forced himself not to feel bad. 

“You know they’re going to retaliate,” Tanya was in their sick bay, talking in hushed tones with her brother. Isaac knew to pause outside and listen. “They were only defending their home and they almost killed half of us. I think we should take a minute-” 

“And let them regroup?” Nikita snapped. Isaac could hear Tanya’s glare in the silence. “Sorry. I-” Nikita sighed. “I led them into that. It’s my fault. I think… I think we need to fight back before they can hit us again. They’re working with other hunting groups. I think the Argents at least, if not others. We can’t expect to take them by brute force, but we can fight dirty. Beat them at their own game.” 

“You’re not doing anything until I know you can breathe through the night, you got that?” Tanya scolded. 

“We’re running out of time. And I swear that no matter what, I’m going to burn them to the ground before they kill me.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tanya teased. “They won’t live long enough to kill you.” 

Isaac, quickly changing his mind about offering to help Tanya, instead headed back to his room. He had planned on sending a warning to Jeanie, despite not knowing any plans, but was instead met with another message. 

_Isaac you need to be careful. The Solovyova don’t care if we have a spy somewhere, they are planning on pushing back harder. They are going to raid some of the Volos outposts but they haven’t told us where. At the first sign of trouble we need you to run. Over the next few days I need you to be on your guard. Tell us anything you hear and do not go looking for trouble. If something feels wrong, run and call us when you land somewhere safe. This isn’t an order, I am asking you as a friend to protect yourself. I don’t give a fuck about this mission or winning or any of it. I don’t care if you have to warn the Volos to get yourself out, just don’t let yourself get hurt._

_-J_

Isaac didn’t know what to do with himself. He updated Jeanie, that the Volos had similar intentions, but everything he had heard tonight told him one thing, there was going to be blood, no matter what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a minute, I've had a weird couple of months and oddly enough now that I'm back at school I have more time to write. Things are definitely picking up, and I might wiggle around my timeline to get Isaac back home a little sooner. A lot is going to happen between now and then, though ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Despite so many wounded, the full moon would not wait. Isaac felt more anxious here than he had in Paris for many months now. The full moon had been quiet, albeit not fully peaceful, for a long time now. The energy at the Volos house was nothing but. A chaotic excitement was growing more and more restless long before the moon rose. Isaac felt oddly paranoid as everyone in the house embraced this rising tension.

“Are you okay?” Sasha asked as Isaac wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as the other residents. 

“I’m fine. Just not really an extrovert,” Isaac shrugged halfheartedly. He was also exhausted from the past few days spent caring for restless and sick werewolves. 

“You don’t need to be an extrovert, you’re a werewolf,” Sasha teased. “Pack is different.” 

Isaac bit back the urge to say _well this isn’t my pack, is it?_ knowing better than to be so openly critical, but Isaac knew he was more anxious than normal. He wasn’t prepared to be around so many people like him. Especially since the more feral packs in the woods acted out there enough on a regular day, he didn’t know what he was in for. And he doubted he would be allowed to just stay inside in the dark. 

There was so much _noise_ now, and not just because the full moon made everything sharper, there was so much shouting and howling outside it set his teeth on edge. He hadn’t realized how many people were actually here until suddenly they were all making noise with reckless abandon. He also hadn’t realized how vaguely terrifying it would be to be surrounded by nothing but glowing eyes and teeth, to see people he had known for a matter of weeks now with feral faces and uncontrolled claws. To know he must look similar. Strange. 

Isaac would never tell Sasha this, but when he shifted he looked more like a little elf than a werewolf, the pointed ears especially enhanced that effect. The fangs did not. His eyes also glowed an uncontrollable amber. It comforted him to see a pair of yellow eyes when most of the pack was dotted with blue. Those younger had yellow eyes still, but a disturbing majority of the adults had blue eyes. 

Being outside meant bodies crashing into him and too much noise, it meant teeth and the scent of adrenaline and the cold and the moon and a strange loneliness that left him wandering further into the woods away from the sound of howling and roughhousing and people being tackled into the dirt. Isaac did not want to participate in this. Sasha followed him even as his pace picked up to a run. That’s what he had wanted to do for so long. He wanted to _run_. He kept going until his lungs burned and the world grew shaky underneath him. 

“Slow down!” Sasha was breathless. “Where are you _going?_” 

“Why are you following me?” Isaac turned to face him, slowing now. Isaac stopped and Sasha crashed into him hard, sending them both tumbling onto the cold earth. The ground was hard with frost, leaving them both scraped and bruised for a moment before healing. Sasha was on top of him. His eyes glowing, but this wasn’t like the packmates roughhousing back at the house, or like when Camden used to hold Isaac down and tickle him until he begged him to stop. Sasha was frozen, clawed hands gently pressing into Isaac’s chest, something strangely human in how fast his heart was now beating. Isaac knew his heartbeat told the same. 

“Sasha…” Isaac didn’t know what he had planned on saying, he had known this guy for a _month_, and whenever these strange pauses happened and they couldn’t turn away from each other all Isaac could think about was Scott. That was going to kill him. Every time his heart raced in that way, when Sasha brushed too close, Isaac could only see Scott’s smile, his calm and his warmth and his steadiness. Before, in France, if someone had ever caught his eye it was Allison who had wounded him. This wasn’t grief anymore, it was _guilt_. For something besides leaving his pack. 

After Isaac spoke Sasha was quick to get off of him, offering him a hand off the ground. “Why… why’d you start running?” Sasha refused to look at him, instead dragging his claws across the bark of a tree, the grating sound loud around them, the howls and shouts of the fanfare back at the house more distant now. 

“Why did you follow?” Isaac kept his tone even, but he didn’t know where this was meant to go. He didn't know what to do on the full moon besides keep quiet and control that constant roaring at the back of his head telling him to _act_. In violent and non-violent ways. 

“I… I don’t want to be around anyone else,” Sasha shrugged halfheartedly. 

Isaac felt a strange half-guilt as his first thought was _I do._ That wasn’t fair. To any of them, not to him, not to Scott, and certainly not to Sasha. How could Isaac keep living like next week he would be going back to Beacon Hills? Like the past few years of distance hadn’t happened? 

“Do you feel like you belong here?” Sasha finally turned back to look him in the eye. It felt wrong, unnatural, to try and have a serious conversation when both of them were drawn by the moon to leave language behind and to just keep running until their legs gave out. “In this pack, do you feel a connection to anyone here?” 

Isaac was definitely intimidated by the question, and what it would mean to answer it honestly. “Do you?” 

Sasha grinned, too many pointed teeth to the point that it almost looked like a threat, “of course you’d say that.” Sasha kept his claws dug into the tree beside them, they both were still shifting restlessly and Isaac almost wanted to turn back towards the house and go looking for a fight. He wasn’t sure if he could entirely blame that on the moon. 

“Fine,” Sasha sighed, scraping away more bark from the tree. “I want this to be my pack, but I don’t know if it is. This isn’t… It’s not-” Sasha grumbled softly under his breath almost like a growl. “It’s not like it was. What _pack_ was with my family. Most of these people here… they’re strangers to me. Even if they talk like they aren’t. The way Tanya and Nikita and Lev all insist on us being loyal to one another, how we’re all _pack_, there’s no meaning there. I don’t go out and fight with them, so maybe I don’t count? I don’t know…” 

“And you want to be in this pack?” Isaac asked slowly. 

“I _need_ to be, Isaak,” Sasha said sharply. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on dying as an omega. And, yeah, I want to be… I think. I admire Nikita.” 

Isaac noted that he didn’t sound so sure any more. Isaac couldn’t help but hope that maybe, _maybe_ seeing Nikita in the field had made him realize that these were cruel people, not heroes. Isaac couldn’t get his hopes up, because Sasha was right. It was dangerous to be without a pack. And Isaac knew enough about fleeing violence to know that you had to take what you could get. No one here hurt Sasha. He had food and a few friendly faces, how could he risk leaving that? 

“So,” Sasha grew more insistent. “What about you?” Isaac could tell he was expecting a real answer. 

“I… I had a pack. _Have_ a pack. Back in the states,” Isaac spoke slowly. He hoped he still had a pack. “I had to leave, because there was too much happening and I couldn’t take it, but my alpha, Scott, he was my friend. And I think I can still feel that. Somehow…” 

“Didn’t you say you were in France for over a year?” Sasha frowned. “Why would you _choose_ to be away from your pack for that long?” 

Isaac stared at Sasha, reading those yellow eyes and everything else he knew about him. Then he took a risk. “I dated a human.” Sasha didn’t blink at this, maybe a moment of pity, but nothing more. “She was part of our pack in her own way and she died.” 

“Hunters?” Sasha grew confused now. 

“No. A… a monster. A nogitsune,” Isaac explained. Sasha didn’t react so he assumed Sasha had no idea what he was talking about. “After she died I couldn’t take being there anymore. So I left. And I haven’t gone back and part of me thinks it’s too late for me to go back now.” 

“I see,” Sasha said. He seemed to be evaluating everything Isaac had said. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose someone, human or not.” A pause. “So… you had a _girlfriend_.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac said. He realized where Sasha’s mind had gone. “She was my first proper girlfriend. And I… didn’t really have the chance to date anyone else, guy or girl, back home.” 

Sasha seemed to perk up at this. “Well, that explains some things,” he quickly elaborated. “I mean about why you’re here and such, your pack.” 

Isaac smiled softly, amused. It felt strange, to be soft in some form around someone here. Everything once more told him he had to be cold. “You can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you, Sasha. I don’t think they’d approve of me dating a human and choosing to leave my pack because of it. I know they say they don’t judge for little things, but I’d rather not have that be on my record here.” 

“I get it,” Sasha said. “I’ll keep my silence on this.” 

“Thanks,” Isaac said. There was a calm now. Well, as calm as it could be with the full moon still itching at them. They were so hyper aware and chaotic and _awake_ it felt like holding back with every second they were just talking. Isaac was about to suggest going back to the house or wandering further into the woods when Sasha tensed in a way Isaac immediately knew something was wrong. 

“What is it-” 

“Shush!” Sasha hissed sharply. If he were a proper wolf his ears would have been perked up and his hackles raised. “Do you hear that?” 

Isaac listened carefully. All he could hear was the pack at the house, shouting and tussling and howling- 

Oh. 

There were no longer joyous rumblings and playful fighting in the distance. There was screaming. Panic and now as they stood there frozen and listening gunfire had joined the fray. 

Sasha’s urging for quiet died as he mumbled a stream of panicked russian and moved to run back towards the house. Isaac, acting on pure instinct -which was about all they had on a night like this- tackled Sasha to the ground. 

“What’re you-” 

Isaac covered his mouth quickly, keeping him pinned in the dirt, tucked as far to the ground and underneath him as he could manage. As if that could protect them. Isaac had heard footsteps far too close. It smelled like a human. Isaac and Sasha both froze, hearts racing, pleading for the universe to send this man the other way. They had both been so careless, crushing underbrush, leaving tracks, Sasha fucking carving up a tree with his claws. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t heard them talking. 

“I heard something!” A man’s voice responded to a scratchy radio call. “I’ll be back in a minute I just want to check this out.” 

They could see him now, a man clad in all black, a gun in his hand and what Isaac recognized as a stun baton in the other. The man stepped over a fallen log, going up to the tree Sasha had been carving into only a minute ago. All he had to do was turn around. All he had to do was look back and kill the two werewolves on the ground under the brush. Isaac had had to hide them, it had been too close, but now they were defenseless at the mercy of chance. Still, they were two fucking werewolves on the full moon, how could they not take down one hunter? 

Isaac knew that without the full moon he wouldn’t have been brave enough or stupid enough to do this. He got up, Sasha’s claws digging into his arm to try and stop him. It was too easy. The man turned around preparing to shoot but by then Isaac has slammed his head against the tree behind him, knocking him out cold. 

Sasha let out a whine of panic, “they’re Solovyova. How did they get here? How did they _find_ us?” He grabbed onto Isaac’s hand, squeezing too tight. 

“Doesn’t matter, we need to get out of here-“ 

Sasha pulled away sharply, stepping back. “We _need_ to go back and help.” 

Isaac was doing his best not to feel annoyed. He had no intention of dying for these people. “What’re you gonna do, Sasha? You said it yourself, you don’t fight.” 

“I am _not_ hiding while my home is attacked,” Isaac had never seen Sasha look so harsh, so critical of him. “I thought… I thought you understood that. _You_ were the one who told me to actually do something.” He took another step back. Isaac had a feeling he was about to take off running again. 

“Please, Sasha, you’re gonna get yourself killed. What happened to ‘this isn’t my pack’?” Isaac knew it was a cruel thing to say but if it stopped his only friend here from killing himself he didn’t care. 

“Fuck you, Isaak,” Sasha refused to take that, especially as the gunfire and screaming had not stopped. 

“I got two more!” They had been stupid. They had been loud and angry and out of it enough that a hunter had snuck up on them on the full moon. Isaac whirled around, backing up so he stood in front of Sasha. “Nice and easy, now. You boys have got some friendly eyes and I’d hate to kill you.” That was harder to believe when the man still had his gun trained on them. He saw his unconscious friend slumped against the tree, head bleeding slightly. “Then again, maybe not…” He raised the gun once again and Isaac once again tackled Sasha to the ground, gunfire going over their heads, seemingly not really with the intention of hitting a target, the threat was still there. Isaac knew the sound of reloading a gun better than most and that he had a second to get Sasha out of there. 

“Run!” Isaac dragged him to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the house, sending him reeling forward, before picking up into a run. He knew Sasha wouldn’t run the other way so he just had to hope the pack was surviving enough to protect him. Sasha didn’t seem to realize Isaac wasn’t following, because Isaac _couldn’t_ follow. He had to stop the man from pursuing and if that meant throwing himself at the hunter and wrestling the gun from his hands so be it. 

Isaac grabbed onto the barrel of the gun, turning it away and trying to slam the man back, but he held on tight. Isaac had the upper hand easily, he just needed to get the man to let go so he could use it. The problem was someone else was running up behind him and he couldn’t turn around without letting go. The man was still holding on for dear life, he just had to get the gun _right now_ and turn around- 

“N-No-” Isaac managed to speak, the words coming out mostly out of panic rather than actual hope for help. His legs collapsed beneath him and an all too familiar wave of pain washed through him. First a bullet to the back of his knee, it firing right through, so it did start to heal, but still his leg buckled beneath him. Maybe he could’ve kept fighting if it had just been that, but he couldn’t breathe as electricity jolted through him, his vision flashing white, his limbs unable to move, and his hands going numb as the gun slipped through his fingers. This stun baton was different to whatever the Argents used. Part of him wondered if it was meant to kill him. He couldn’t wonder about much else because it was growing difficult to remain conscious. He could blurrily see people above him, so he wasn’t dead yet. 

Isaac felt hands grab onto his arms and pull him from the ground. He wildly thought for a moment it was one of the Volos, but they smelled human, meaning he had a far more delirious thought that maybe the Argents had come to rescue him. That thought died quickly as he felt chains around his wrists. Isaac couldn’t even bring himself to fight back, even though he was a fully turned werewolf, even as something metal covered his mouth and they began to drag him away. The world was still foggy around him. Some part of him realized he wasn’t being murdered, he was being abducted. They were taking him somewhere. This was what spurred some form of panic where he began thrashing against the arms holding him, kicking furiously. Still, they just barely managed to keep ahold of him and Isaac couldn’t do much with his wrists bound behind him. 

Was he really that out of it? He’d been through this before. He’d known how to get out of it then and he could do it again now. Isaac’s scream was muffled by whatever was over his mouth, but he was free and his broken hand was already healing. The two hunters holding him seemed surprised. Isaac didn’t actually hurt them, but he did knock them both to the ground before taking off running. He knew the house was behind him, but the people tracking him were _also_ behind him. If he just got far enough away maybe he could circle back- 

Isaac felt blinding pain erupt underneath his right shoulderblade. Worse, he felt a rib shatter underneath the impact, and still even worse, breathing grew incredibly difficult as blood began to fill up his lung. There was no way he could’ve stayed standing after that, but he still resented himself for collapsing. In an instant there were hands back on him, pinning him to the ground, putting pressure on his damaged lung. The thing was, he was _healing_, he was coughing and struggling all the while, but he was quite confident that if he wasn’t healing he would be choking on blood by now. Internal bleeding made external. Like how a sword to the gut leaves a dying body with blood on her lips. How much a wound like that could bleed... 

That unpleasant thought was the last he had as another wave of electricity jolted through his body and he tumbled into unconsciousness. Still, Isaac’s last thoughts should not have been of Allison, they should have been for him, and the terrible question of why, _why_ did these people want him alive? 

It was a good thing that Isaac didn’t come to until he was… wherever he was now, because his captors had tossed his unconscious body in the boot of the car. Then again, if he _had_ come to in the trunk, the adrenaline alone would have given him the strength to break free. Now Isaac was blindfolded. They had learned from their last mistakes and had also wrapped chains around his body. Even a werewolf on the full moon -which was over now anyways- could not tear through layers of metal. It didn’t help that the last time he had tried to pull away from the people half carrying him he had been immediately shocked. 

Isaac wouldn’t have sunk low enough to plead with them had he been able, but that was hard to do as- well, he wasn’t _muzzled_ persay, but the metal prevented him from speaking or trying to bite the hunters around him. Well, actually, then he was muzzled. Undignifying. This was made far worse considering Isaac was coughing blood. The bullet wound had healed, but he _had_ bled enough that it didn’t go away when he healed, and that blood had to come out somehow. It was doing so quite uncomfortably. He couldn’t open his mouth at all, so the coughing was really just a shuddering through his body as he tried to force the blood from between his teeth. 

“Put that one down there,” someone was giving orders in Russian. Once more Isaac’s hope that somehow an Argent would be involved died. 

“This one broke his wrists to break free last time, we can’t string him up like we do the rest,” whoever was holding onto his left arm replied. Isaac kept turning his head to see those around him, but he couldn’t make out anything through the blindfold. _Others_. Had others been captured? Had _Sasha?_

“Well, just take him to interrogation first. After that we won’t need him anymore.” 

_Fuck_. Isaac had to think of a way out of this. They _had_ prepared for this, for Isaac getting taken by hunters, but it had been under the assumption it would be by some confused _Argents_, not the Solovyova. Isaac was supposed to have them call Valerie at first opportunity, and if they couldn’t reach her, Argent outposts had been informed that the werewolf on their side had a tattoo on his arm identifying him as one of them, and then he was supposed to be let go. Isaac was still gagged, blindfolded, and surrounded by a very different brand of hunter than those he worked for. What were the odds that the Argents had risked telling their allies about having a werewolf for a spy? 

_If I get out of this alive, I fucking swear to god I’ll do better. I’ll be braver. I’ll send more information. I’ll take more risks. I’ll actually do something. I’ll get Sasha out of there. I just have to make it._

Isaac didn’t know who he was pleading -praying?- to, but he doubted there would be an answer. Isaac was unbound. He had barely considered making a run for it when once more electricity caused his legs to buckle beneath him with a muffled yelp. What the fuck was _wrong_ with these people? The bindings returned, now chaining him down to a metal chair. The full moon had set hours ago. His body, now for all intents and purposes human, ached from the turning along with the recent abuse it had been put through. Isaac had decided that his life mattered more than his pride and at first opportunity he would try and get them to contact the Argents. 

That opportunity was taking its time. Now that it was clear Isaac had no chance of escaping his two guards had left the room, leaving him to sit blindly in silence. It was strange, this was almost like his initiation, except this time he knew what was going on. And that only made the fear worse. Isaac was not physically triggered which was a benefit, so he was cognizant, but there was still proper fear. Isaac talked a big game, but he didn’t want to be murdered by hunters. And from what he’d heard, murdered slowly and painfully for sake of information he had already given to the Argents. _Fuck._

Isaac wished he hadn’t jumped when the door opened again some time later. He hated looking _weak_. Worse- he actually _was_ weak. Isaac had planned on never being helpless again. He was constantly being proved wrong. Isaac could hear the man approaching him but he still flinched when he took off the blindfold. Isaac adjusted to the light quickly as there was only a dim overhead light above them. It looked almost like he was in an office of some shitty company. Cinderblock walls. No windows. A broken filing cabinet still in the back corner. A table in front of him. The metal chair Isaac was currently chained to did seem out of place. Isaac wondered if this was a permanent base of theirs. If so they needed to do some redecorating. At the very least make it more ominous. Isaac would have gladly made this sarcastic comments out loud but there was still a fucking gag on him. Didn’t seem like an easy route to interrogation… 

Isaac hated himself for flinching when the man pulled out a stun baton. He didn’t use it, simply kept it at his side. The guy embodied the stereotypical hunter, like Chris had when they first met. Slight scruff, serious eyebrows, short, cropped hair, and a cold disposition clearly meant to warn that he wasn’t afraid to do harm. That was already abundantly clear. 

“Eyes,” the man did not say it as a question and arguably he didn’t even say it as a demand, he just offered the word out there. 

Isaac wanted so badly to make some biting comment about how articulate this hunter was but clearly he couldn’t. He also knew there was no point in refusing, especially considering his eye color might be the only thing that would save his life. Isaac showed his eyes. The man didn’t seem calmer for it, he seemed puzzled, a serious frown forming. Isaac just needed to be able to fucking speak, to _tell_ them that he was an Argent. Part of Isaac was afraid that they had no intention of taking off his gag until they put a bullet in his skull. He tried to rationalize the fact that, had they planned on simply killing him, he never would have made it this far. Unless of course he wasn’t here for an interrogation and instead these people fully planned on torturing him to death just because. 

The man didn’t seem to know what to do now. Isaac didn’t know if he was having some ethical debate or if there was no protocol for a member of the Volos having yellow eyes. Isaac, after feeling some sense of scrutiny from the Volos for that very same fact, could only hope it would give him the benefit of the doubt. His jaw was aching now, the metal forcing his mouth closed growing more and more uncomfortable, but he couldn’t move at all. They had learned from their past mistakes and Isaac could break his wrist and every bone in his hand and he still wouldn’t be able to wriggle free. The man turned and left. Not exactly a successful intimidation tactic, but Isaac was irritated enough that he was stuck waiting once more for someone to decide his fate. 

Isaac couldn’t help but continue to pull at the chains around his wrists, despite knowing that even if he could free himself from this chair there was a whole maze of hunters just outside that door. Isaac’s only way out of this was by talking and that was _infuriating_. Not to mention he was still coughing blood like a victorian damsel foreshadowing his own death. 

_You should've stayed in fucking Beacon Hills, Lahey. Scott and the rest are probably having the time of their lives. Going to college, moving on, being normal, maybe getting into some trouble with another pack of werewolves, but you’re the idiot who is gonna be tortured to death. Your friends are gonna be the ones to deal with the fact that you never responded, that you just fell off the radar. What, you were gonna make it up to Scott, were you? Good fucking luck doing that in whatever mass grave these bastards throw you in._

Isaac’s racing thoughts and futile resistance was interrupted by the door opening. Isaac stopped struggling, well, despite the occasional attempt to hack up blood, staring warily at the older woman who had been sent in with the hunter from before. She looked like someone’s strict, judgy aunt, not a killer. It didn’t help that there was no way she was taller than 5’2”. Isaac wasn’t stupid enough to think this made her incapable of inflicting damage. 

“Eyes,” the woman repeated the man’s initial request. Isaac complied, rolling them all the while. She frowned, seeming equally surprised, but unlike the other hunter she continued. “I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to nod yes or no. See, it is harder to manipulate two options into lies.” Great. Isaac still didn’t have the chance to explain that he was _on their side_ and that the Argents would not be pleased if he turned up dead. “You understand?” She was waiting for a response. 

Isaac glanced between her and the hunter behind her, thinking desperately. If he shook his head no, would that mean they would take off the gag and let him explain, or would it mean that guy would get to use his stun baton again? Isaac had to be strategic, he knew well enough from past experience the best way to avoid pain was to stay quiet and do what he was told. Isaac nodded. 

“Good,” the woman sat across from him, hands folded on the table, the other hunter remained leaning against the wall behind her, still armed. “You are a member of the Volos pack.” 

Isaac quickly shook his head. 

The woman frowned looking back to the man behind her who just shrugged, stun baton in his right hand. Which he now offered to her. Isaac leaned back despite knowing there was nowhere to go, but the woman shook her head. “Not now,” she turned back to Isaac. “Are you a member of the family? The Volkovs?” Isaac shook his head. “So, you were, what, just visiting?” She was growing sarcastic and impatient, which didn’t bode well for Isaac’s safety. If he kept saying no, giving strange answers, _surely_ they would let him talk? 

“He is clearly lying, why else would he be there?” The man against the wall spoke up first. 

“Quiet,” the woman snapped at him. She turned back to Isaac and he couldn’t find any actual malice in her gaze, only caution. “Were you bitten?” 

Isaac nodded. 

“By Nikita?” A no. “Alyosha?” Another no. If they would just let him _talk_ they would know he was an American. The woman leaned closer. Isaac couldn’t lean back. She seemed to be searching him for some sign of a lie. “You are not a killer so you do not fight for the Volos.” Isaac wasn’t sure if he was supposed to nod or not. “But we found you there. So you must forgive me for not trusting you, your kind have a bad reputation. I need you to understand that the only reason we haven’t used force so far is because of your eyes, but if you are lying to us, if you continue to mislead us, that won’t protect you.” 

What the hell did she want from him? He couldn’t _explain_ with this yes-or-no bullshit. 

“Do you know anything about the Volos pack?” Isaac nodded yes. “Did you choose to live there?” Isaac hesitated, before nodding yes again. “Are you valued by the pack?” An odd question. Isaac wasn’t sure which answer was more dangerous. A ‘no’ meant they might not need him alive, a ‘yes’ means his situation as a hostage might get messier. Isaac shrugged. The man scoffed, shifting from foot to foot, arms folded over his chest. He seemed a bit trigger-happy so Isaac was glad this woman was still keeping him on a leash. 

“This is usually simpler,” the woman muttered. Isaac could understand that. It probably usually went quite linearly. In the pack, in the family, what value, what rank, and probably a final, more bloody bid for information, and then dead. She finally turned back to her subordinate, Isaac felt panic flutter in his chest just as the man seemed to perk up. “Take off the gag.” Isaac would have felt relieved, but the man didn’t seem disappointed by the order at all. Isaac grimaced, his jaw tense from being held closed, not to mention he was now properly coughing up blood. 

“Now we will get some answers,” the man was still too close to him and seemed preparing to hit him. 

“Wait- Wait! Hold on- I- I can explain,” Isaac’s words were a panicked stream after hours of silence, blood dripping down his face, but at least he could breathe properly now. 

The man scoffed, but the woman shook her head, nodding behind her. 

“What?” He seemed taken aback. “He’s- Why did you have me-?” 

“Quiet. Or you can wait outside,” she snapped. Isaac wasn’t sure if he was allowed to explain or if she still expected yes or no answers. She turned back to him, “well? Are you going to?” 

“I need you to call the Argents,” he said immediately. “I know you’re their allies- they’ll explain everything. I’m working for _them_.” 

“The Argents?” The woman seemed baffled. “You’re- You’re telling me you know the Argents?” 

“_Know_ them? I _am_ one,” as Isaac said this the words themselves didn’t surprise him, but the utter certainty. He was an Argent. He knew that for a fact by now. 

“A werewolf Argent- Please tell me you don’t believe this nonsense,” the asshole was back to his complaining. 

“Come on. Get out,” the woman all but shoved him into the hallway. Isaac almost relaxed, but the woman left with him, shutting and locking the door behind her. 

_Fuck_. Isaac had no idea if this woman believed him or even if she did if she respected the Argents enough to contact them and let him go. Isaac didn’t think he could’ve done any better, really. This group didn’t seem like the kind to sympathize easily. He just had to hope the right person would be called. 

Isaac could hear conversation somewhere outside the room he was trapped in but not close enough that he could make it out. Isaac was trying very hard not to think about the fact that he was locked in a room and had no control over whether or not he would get out of it. Isaac had made plenty of progress over the years, but there was some level of fear he didn’t think would ever fade. He just wanted _out_. Or at the very least to know what the hell was going on. Isaac wasn’t sure how long he was left alone. It _felt_ like hours, but again, Isaac’s circumstances made time pass very slowly. He began to contemplate if the bullet was now closed in his lung. He would leave that problem for later. 

The door finally opened and the woman returned alone. She did not immediately untie him. 

“We have agreed to let you go in exchange for any information you have gotten thus far.” 

_Agreed_ to let him go. As if there had been an option where they _didn’t_ let him go. “I… I’ve told the Argents everything I know.” 

“We know,” she looked too cold. It made Isaac nervous. “But it is a very different situation, to offer information over the phone as opposed to having you here and… willing.” Ah. So torture wasn’t off the table yet. “And from now on we will be working more closely with the Argents, as they were content to keep important information from us.” 

“It’s not- _I’m_ the one that warned your people that the Volos were going to attack your home,” Isaac snapped. “We haven’t been _keeping_ things from you.” 

This woman was mature enough not to snap back at a resentful teenager, but that didn’t mean Isaac wasn’t _right_. “Remind me, then. Everything you have told your people.” She sat across from him once more and seemed perfectly content to wait and leave him there until he gave answers. 

“Fine,” Isaac sighed, wracking his brains for whatever the hell he had told his family. “I told them that the Volos were going to attack your home. I estimated a few hundred people there. At the camp you attacked last night- I think there’s around 40 people there full time, others coming and going. Nikita is there most often. I haven’t seen Alyosha yet. They do want to expand outside Russia, but I don’t know the specifics of where.” Isaac stopped talking and the woman waited for him to continue, realizing he wouldn’t, she grew disappointed. Isaac was just glad she didn’t seem to think he was holding out on her. 

“That is all?” She asked. Isaac nodded. “We knew all that already.” 

“Yeah, like I said, they haven’t been keeping things from you,” Isaac said dryly. 

“How long did you say you had been there?” 

“About a month.” 

“Hm,” she looked at him doubtfully. “Suppose I expected more.” 

“Are you… are you really judging my work, right now?” Isaac couldn’t believe this. He was almost more offended by this than the whole kidnapping ordeal. Although he had been playing things very carefully, but that was what he had been _told_ to do. 

She didn’t respond, instead she stood, seemingly unhappy with the results, but she also didn’t seem to plan on torturing him, so Isaac would take that as a win. That is, until she began to leave. Without him. 

“Hey! You’re not gonna leave me in here, are you? I thought we were all pals now,” Isaac started pulling at the chains around him once more. “Are you still talking to the Argents?” She didn’t answer, but she didn’t lock the door behind her either. Not that that meant much since he was still fucking tied down. Isaac leaned back in his chair, wishing he could slouch more without the chains around his chest. “Fucking hell…” 

Thankfully, someone returned quickly, un-thankfully, it was that motherfucker from before. He did not immediately shoot Isaac in the head, so that was a win. Isaac still tensed when the man got close, but all he did was take the chains off of him, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world besides letting a werewolf go. 

“Thank you,” Isaac said sarcastically, stretching out after hours of discomfort. Isaac got up and headed towards the door. The hunter grabbed onto his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He snarled. 

Isaac could tear this man apart easily, but he was of course still fucking helpless because if he moved against him it would be the perfect excuse to kill him and get away with it. Of course Isaac knew that even if they sent his body back to the Argents with some shitty story about how Isaac attacked first, the Argents wouldn’t stand for it. That wasn’t exactly comforting because in that scenario Isaac would still be dead. 

“If I’m not supposed to be going anywhere, why the fuck are you here?” Isaac shot back. 

“You’re coming with me,” the hunter stopped pinning him to the wall, but still held onto his arm irritatingly tight. They moved through dimly lit hallways at a quick pace. Isaac saw through metal fencing other werewolves strung up from the ceiling, wiring circling down to the chains around their wrists. Isaac doubted they were all prisoners from actual fights with the Volos. There was nothing he could do, but he was still allowed to be pissed about it. 

“You can let go, Stephan,” the woman was now talking with another hunter, a phone on speaker between them. The hunter holding him pushed him forward. “Your people want to have a word with you,” she nodded to the phone. Isaac moved to pick it up, she reached out to stop him. “On speaker, if you don’t mind.” Isaac knew it wasn’t a request. 

“Isaac? Are you okay?!” 

“Romy?! You’re- I’m okay, why are you-?” 

“She said she had to be here the moment I told her,” Jeanie’s voice joined in. 

“Of course I had to be- Isaac, you dumbass- how did you manage to get taken by hunters? You _are_ a hunter,” Romy of course was teasing him immediately. Her words cause the pair of hunters to scoff their association with Isaac. It seemed the pair could speak some english. Now _that_ was weird. Romy still always spoke to Isaac in english so Jeanie had chosen to follow in suit despite their usual communications being in french. Isaac hadn’t spoken in english in so long. 

“Romy, hold on just a minute- Isaac, what’s happened?” Jeanie asked, cutting Romy off. 

Isaac glanced at the hunters still watching him, “well, the Solovyova attacked the house on the full moon. I don’t know the details, but, well, they sort of shot me, knocked me unconscious, and kidnapped me.” Isaac wasn’t lying, but it felt a bit awkward to say in present company. “Didn’t have the chance to explain I was an Argent until now.” 

Romy cursed harshly enough in french for Isaac to hear Jeanie hit her on the arm. 

“But you’re okay?” Jeanie clarified. 

“Pretty much,” Isaac decided not to tell them the details of getting shot in the lung. Isaac felt oddly emotional. He had missed them, even if it was just their voices. Still, he had no intention of getting sappy in front of these dickhead hunters. 

“We’ve been worried about you, Isaac,” Jeanie spoke it for him. 

“Good to know you’re still breathing, American,” Isaac could hear Romy get a little shaky. Isaac had missed that name. _American_. “House is fucking boring without you.” 

“You’re hardly here,” Jeanie scolded her. 

“What?” Isaac knew this wasn’t the point of this conversation, but he felt out of the loop. 

“Oh! Yeah! I’m graduated! So is Leo, David they’re still holding back, but everyone is always out on missions when I get home, and then _I’m_ back out on missions and it’s a whole thing. I haven’t seen Leo in over a week,” Romy rambled. “Jeanie is back here running the show, kicking ass on the council.” 

“_Romy,_” Isaac could hear Jeanie’s endearment even as she scolded her. Isaac was struck once more by profound homesickness. _Homesickness_. He had a home. Strange. 

“Other than the social chat, is there anything pressing you need to tell me?” Isaac did not want this conversation to end, but he had to make sure they weren’t facing yet another life or death tragedy in the next few hours. 

“Well, nothing particular, we’ve been trying to figure out how we’re sending you back,” Jeanie said. 

“Sending me back?” Isaac grew confused. 

“Unless you don’t want to,” Jeanie added quickly. “If anything, Isaac, this would be the perfect opportunity for extraction. No sneaking away, no awkward questions.” 

“I’m not giving up now,” Isaac was shocked by the suggestion. 

“There’s my boy,” Romy crowed. “Really, Jeanie, Isaac’s a badass spy now! He isn’t going home after one rogue abduction,” Isaac couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. 

“While that is good news,” Jeanie tried to reign them both in, “sending you back isn’t just simply buying you a bus ticket, Isaac. They are going to ask questions as to how you escaped.” 

Isaac frowned. He hadn’t thought about that. “Okay, so, what were you going to suggest?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a lot of stuff happening all at once and also nothing at all lol but I hope you liked it nonetheless! I'm hoping to pick up the pace a bit and I hope you all like where it's going!  
Also: I am trying to figure out what the hell werewolf culture is. I kinda thought full moons would be like a monthly burning man? Just a wild party where everyone is hopped up on moonlight lol. We'll see where that ends up.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure there isn’t an another way?” Isaac asked.

“This is all we’ve got that will kill any suspicion this raises. I’m sorry, Isaac, but people don’t come back from the Solovyanas, you turning up alive is going to seem absurd,” Jeanie at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

“Yeah, well, you guys really aren’t making this easy on me,” Isaac grumbled. “You can’t even shoot me like right before?” Isaac looked to the hunters beside him once more. They seemed to have no qualms about shooting Isaac in the leg.

“No, Isaac, it wouldn’t make sense. You need to have bleed for a few hours at least,” Jeanie sighed. “It’s gonna suck, but no one’s gonna think the guy turning up half dead is a double agent.”

“Why’d you have to say it like that?” Romy whined. “Now _I’m_ freaked out.”

“Not helping, Romy,” Isaac grimaced.

“Isaac, I know this seems like a bit much, but trust me, you walking in there just fine is gonna raise questions and I think we’d both prefer you took a bullet to the leg instead of getting your head torn off by Russians,” Jeanie offered. Isaac understood just fine, that didn’t make him happy about it.

“When you put it like that,” Isaac muttered, glancing at the hunters around him. The hostility hadn’t faded as much as he would have liked, especially considering they were actively being given permission to hurt him.

“Would you like us to stay on the line while they do it?” Jeanie asked.

“Oh, when you said now, you meant _right now,_” Isaac sighed.

“Well, best to just get it over with before you’ve been gone too long. Hopefully the drive back will let the poison spread enough for it to look authentic,” Jeanie said. Isaac could hear Romy whining on his behalf on the other end as the hunters on either side of him led him to a garage.

“Best to do it here and not in the car,” the woman who had escorted him had a gun.

“Wish I could hold your hand, American?” Romy, of course, teased him regardless.

“Not fucking likely,” Isaac muttered, still, he gripped the car door tight enough his knuckles turned white, his other hand still holding onto the phone. He hesitated. “Look, I wish I could keep talking for longer, but I think… I think it’s best I hang up now before things get messy.”

A pause, Isaac knowing his two friends were having a silent conversation right now exchanging looks. “I was kidding, American. You don’t have to do this alone,” Romy spoke first.

“Oh don’t get sappy on me, I thought we’d moved past this,” Isaac teased, but he was still staring at the gun currently pointed at the floor. It soon wouldn’t be.

“If that’s really what you want to do,” Jeanie said. “Then this is goodbye. Please contact me once you’re safe. We’ve really missed you, Isaac.”

“What she said,” Romy added.

“Miss you guys too. So, see you on the other side, I guess,” Isaac said before handing the phone back to its owner, who hung up.

“Do you want something to bite down on?” The woman had the decency to offer some sympathy.

“Just get it over with.”

Isaac hit the ground hard, he hadn’t screamed, merely gasped in surprise, biting down on his knuckles as pain washed over him, blood steadily pouring from the unhealing hole in the back of his left leg. Once again two hunters picked him up by his arms and dragged him into a car, one of them tore off a strip from Isaac’s shirt and tied it tightly around his leg. Smart. Isaac was too blinded by pain to have thought of that. He was once again at the mercy of the people around him, the burning slowly but surely spreading up his leg as the pain began to pulse with the blood still pressing past the makeshift bandage. Isaac must have blacked out during the car ride, there was no way he was conscious for all that pain during the ride, but it still was a shock to the system when the car stopped and he was dragged out into the woods. He was getting woozy from bloodloss and the poison still in his system, not enough to kill him, but enough that he would definitely need help when he made it back to camp.

Isaac staggered on his feet, the hunter he was half leaning on turned him around, “your people are that way,” he said gruffly.

“They’re… they’re not my people,” Isaac muttered resentfully. “How far out are we?”

“Three kilometers or so.”

“Of course,” Isaac leaned down, tying the fabric around his leg tighter. “Thanks for the ride, boys.” With that awkward goodbye Isaac began to make his way slowly and painfully through the woods. Isaac heard the car leave him. He was on his own now; as if those assholes had been much help to begin with. Isaac stumbled over the underbrush, his left leg all but dead weight now, he paused, leaning against a tree, clinging to it as it was the only thing supporting him. He shut his eyes tightly, breathing slowly to stop the dizziness which caused the world to sway around him. He had to stay focused on one direction, he could not afford to get lost or to take too long on this journey. He had definitely bled a lot on the way there, but as long as the poison didn’t reach his heart, he was good, right?

It most certainly didn’t feel that way. What were the odds that the next time he tripped over a branch and hit the ground, he’d black out and bleed to death before he could make it back? Isaac’s first concern was how guilty Jeanie and Romy would feel. Isaac _had_ to make it back. To make sure Sasha was okay, to fulfill his promise to do better, and most importantly to spite those hunters who were definitely hoping he would die out here. They did _not_ need to drop him off 3 kilometers out in the freezing cold at what Isaac could only guess was 4 or 5 in the morning. All of this bullshit had happened in just a night. Maybe the pack was still patrolling this far out, looking for survivors.

“H-Help! Someone- Please, ‘m hurt!” Isaac called out far more weakly than he would’ve liked. It was a waste of breath, especially considering all of his focus was on breathing steadily. Surely he was close by now, right? He couldn’t smell anyone close by, so that didn’t instill hope. _Just keep fucking going, Lahey._ Isaac gritted his teeth and continued to drag his bleeding leg across the forest floor. Back in Beacon Hills this would’ve been the moment where Scott swooped in to save him. Or Allison. Someone to look for enemies, the other to hold him and press down on the wound to stop the bleeding. Allison firing arrows at any pursuing hunters, Scott pulling Isaac closer and telling him everything would be okay...

He must really be feeling that bloodloss now, to get that level of pathetic fantasy going when really he should be entirely focused on making sure he was traveling in a straight line towards the house. He wasn’t sure if it was really taking an eternity to take a single step or if the bloodloss made time feel slower. He wasn’t even sure if he was going the right way anymore, he’d stumbled and collapsed more than enough times to get turned around. Isaac was starting to realize he didn’t have much strength left in him. _This is it, Lahey, you keep going, or you die. If you fall now you’re not getting back up, so don’t fall._ Isaac thought he could hear someone, but couldn’t bring himself to shout, all of his remaining strength was used up dragging himself forward, clinging from one tree to the next, a trail of blood behind him. Isaac’s leg gave out beneath him and he just couldn’t do it anymore. He hit the ground hard, the frozen earth knocking the wind out of him, or perhaps he was just breathless from the effort it had taken to get this far. His hands clung blindly to the dirt, trying to push himself back up but unable to even move. _How_ much blood had he lost, exactly? He was too afraid -and weak- to look up and see how much his leg was still bleeding. The world blurred around him. This was it. He was going to pass out and that would be the end for him. _What a bullshit way to go_. Maybe this was just a ploy for those hunters to kill him without taking the fall for it, maybe they’d dumped him nowhere near the house…

“Lev! We found someone!” A voice sounded far too distant to Isaac. He only started moving again when someone grabbed him. His first instinct to fight them off, however weakly, only to recognize them. It was Lev, picking him up underneath the shoulders. Tanya close behind, getting him by the legs.

“The boy’s too fucking tall,” Isaac heard Lev grumbling under his breath as he tried to support Isaac’s dead weight.

“Shut it, Lev, before I take this bullet out of his leg and put it in yours,” Tanya snapped sharply. Isaac cried out as the movement caused his leg to shift painfully, at least it kept him conscious. “Shush, dear, you’re gonna be alright, Isaak. We’ll get you fixed up,” she spoke soothingly to him.

“Heard what you did for Sasha,” Lev spoke up too, Isaac only half hearing them. “Gave him the chance to run… You’re not so bad, kid. Might not agree on everything, but you’re not too bad.”

Isaac didn’t have the chance to feel relieved by this new reputation as the process of entering the house and moving him upstairs grew too painful and the world turned black around him, voices blurring together without the mental capacity to translate them.

Isaac was, in general, grateful that he had passed out at that moment. On the one hand because had he blacked out earlier he most definitely would have died in the woods, on the other being that he was pretty sure they had to take the bullet, and the poison, out of him now. The moment he felt something digging into his leg- Tweezers? _Claws_? -he couldn’t take it anymore and was soon dead to the world. Hopefully he would live to wake up.

Isaac _did_ wake up, but he almost wished he hadn’t. Not only was his leg aching like it had been filled with concrete, but his head was pounding and his mouth tasted sour like- well, what he supposed wolfsbane must taste like. Isaac bearily focused on whoever was sitting beside his bed in his room. Sasha.

“Hey,” Sasha looked exhausted. And surely that was the only reason his eyes were red and puffy, that was why he was looking at him like _that_. “How are you feeling?”

Rather than reply, Isaac quickly sat up and puked black bile into a nearby bowl. Now _that_ tasted like poison.

“Great,” Isaac said sarcastically, laying back down with a heavy sigh. He’d made it. Just barely, by the looks of it, but still. He was here and very much alive from how much pain he was in.

“You’re an idiot,” Sasha mumbled halfheartedly. Isaac now realized Sasha had been holding his hand, he pulled away the moment Isaac noticed. “Did stupid things for me, you know that?”

“Am I mistranslating, or are you really calling me an idiot after I saved your fur?” Isaac teased to the best of his ability, even as the room still seemed to sway around him. He was in their shared room, not the med bay. So they didn’t think he was at risk of dying anymore. That was good, he supposed.

Sasha was staring at him intently, biting his lip, seeming to be warring over saying something or rather _what_ he should say. “God, Isaak, how did you survive?” Sasha sounded weepy again and Isaac had absolutely no idea how to deal with that.

“Eh, I’m good at dealing with hunters,” Isaac attempted to shrug, but even that motion sent more waves of pain through his head. “Fucking hell, maybe not good enough.”

“You should rest more,” Sasha said. “I shouldn't have asked… you shouldn’t have to explain now… but I’m positive Nikita will want to talk to you once you’re better.”

This kept Isaac awake. “Why? Did something else happen?” Isaac hoped he didn’t sound too unreasonably paranoid. “Did they get anyone else?”

Sasha hesitated, clearly thinking this was the worst time to get Isaac worked up. “A few dead. Gunned down. No one you knew, except…”

“Except what, Sasha?” Isaac only grew more anxious.

“You knew Mia a little, didn’t you?” Sasha seemed to be struggling to hold himself together. “I knew her. She was my friend,” his composure seemed to crumble at this. “They didn’t even shoot her, she was just too sick,” Sasha was attempting to pull himself together even as hiccuping sobs took over. “She tried to fight back and she was too weak.” Isaac, without much thought behind it, grabbed onto Sasha’s hand again. “Lev says she would’ve been dead by morning anyways, but surely…” Sasha shook his head, holding onto Isaac more tightly. “I don’t know… I just don’t know. If there was something I could have done or…”

Isaac forced himself to sit up, biting back a whimper as more pain unsteadied him. Isaac was more concerned with the guilt. Isaac had tried to get in touch with Bhatt for help, barely, but he hadn’t _really_ tried, had he? He could have asked the Solovyeva when he was there, not like they would have told him, but he could have fucking _tried_. There was nothing he could do about that now. What he _could_ do was help Sasha. Isaac managed to pull Sasha closer to him, letting him bury his face in his shoulder and just break down for a moment.

“You’re the only other person I have here. I really thought I’d lost both of you,” Sasha mumbled.

Isaac was really starting to question his ability to understand Russian, because how the hell could Sasha really care about him that much? Was he really that desperate for someone he could trust, or was Isaac actively oblivious- because of _what_? Because of _Scott_? Isaac had to get his head on straight.

“I’m still here,” Isaac managed to speak. “I’ve got you.” Isaac exhaled through gritted teeth, a hand going to his right ribcage.

“I’m sorry, you’re in pain, I shouldn’t be leaning on you,” Sasha pulled away, not looking him in the eye, seeming embarrassed.

“No, no, you were fine, I just…” Isaac didn’t know how to deal with this. “They shot me, and I think the bullet might still be in my lung.”

Sasha stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You should be dead.”

“It was a regular bullet,” he said quickly. “No poison. I’m guessing they wanted me alive, the one in my leg, _that_ was poisoned,” Isaac stared gloomily down at the bandages wrapped around his leg.

“How the hell did you get away from them? You were gone for hours.” Sasha asked.

Isaac had known he would need to have a story to tell, but he had assumed he would have more time to think it through, instead of being busy trying not to black out from bloodloss.

“I’m not sure, really, it was all chaos, and I could barely think straight from the pain of it, I just kept running until I collapsed somewhere… I’m guessing I blacked out for a while, and when I came to I had to try and make it back to the house so I just kept walking until someone found me. It’s all sort of… blurry.” None of that was a lie, not really.

“I’m so sorry… I am so sorry, Isaak, I left you… how could I just leave you like that?” Sasha was shaky again, turning away to wipe his eyes, and Isaac wanted figure out how to make him stop. He probably shouldn’t mention that the hunters would have tortured him to death, given the chance.

“I’m okay. I told you to run and you did. When I knew you were gone, I knew it was safe for me to run too, if you’d stuck around… I would’ve had to wait it out with you,” Isaac tried to put some thought together, tried to keep things light, because he knew he was already falling into this too deep, whatever this was.

“And the last thing I did was shout at you,” Sasha held off tears long enough to grow overcome by shame. “I shouted at you for wanting to run away when I was the one who actually did.”

Isaac didn’t know what to say to that. What _could_ he say? “You wanted to do the right thing. You wanted to help. I can’t blame you for that.”

“And you just wanted us to be safe. How could I judge you for that?” Sasha replied.

No answers from either of them, just staring at each other. Isaac taking him in, trying to wrap his head around what all this was, whether or not it was healthy, if it was what he wanted. Sasha seemed to be leaning closer, Isaac could feel his breath on his face now…

“Isaak! You’re awake,” Tanya appeared in the doorway and the spell was broken. They both pulled back. “How’re you feeling?”

“Alright, all things considered,” Isaac shrugged, no longer looking at Sasha just as he stood and moved away. Isaac didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with any of this, so he ignored him in suit. “Alive, it seems.”

“Yes. We weren’t sure if you would be after all that,” Tanya didn’t sound like she was kidding. “Are you still in pain?”

“Well, yeah,” Isaac sighed. “But I’ll get through it.”

“Curb the tough guy act, what hurts?” Tanya came up beside him. “Anything still burning, like wolfsbane?”

“No, I think the poison’s gone,” Isaac said. Now for the hard part. “But… I think there might still be a bullet in my lung,” Isaac winced, knowing what the next step would be.

“Shit,” Tanya let out a low whistle. “You just love getting more work for me, don’t you?”

“This isn’t the highlight of my day, either,” Isaac said. A pause. “Well, considering how shitty it’s been, this is probably the easy part.”

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Tanya turned to leave. “Sasha, would you help him get back to the med bay? I’m sure you would both prefer to keep blood out of your room.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sasha sounded as nervous as Isaac felt, but he still took the much taller boy’s arm around his shoulder and helped him limp down the hall to the med bay. Isaac’s leg was still dead weight and now that the adrenaline had faded he was uncomfortably aware of this strange sharp pain in his right lung which made him want to cough like he was ill, but there was no way in hell he could cough out a bullet. It was uncomfortable all around. “I’ve got you,” Sasha mumbled back what Isaac had said before, one hand pressing into Isaac’s chest to help keep him upright.

Isaac settled on a chair in the med bay, the cots once more full of the wounded. Tanya worked to clear off a table, not bothering to sanitize because werewolves were never meant to have wounds open enough to get an infection.

“I’m afraid we might have to break a few bones,” Tanya motioned to the table, Sasha helping Isaac onto it. “The ribs are a pretty damn good defense.”

“Yeah, knew this wouldn’t be fun,” Isaac muttered ruefully. At the time trying to make a run for it had made perfect sense, but getting shot in the lung tended to change that.

“Shirt off,” she was looking for something in one of the many tins of medicine piled around the room. “Unless you don’t think it’s worth keeping.”

Isaac looked down at his shirt. Blood had dribbled down his chin and stained the collar of his shirt. He was confident that his back was equally stained from the actual bullet wound. “Yeah…” Isaac struggled to pull his shirt off, still shaky from bloodloss and poison. Sasha helped him cut through it. “You wouldn’t happen to have something for the pain, would you?”

“Sure we do,” Tanya had a large knife in one hand. “But not for something like this.”

“Great,” Isaac sighed.

“Don’t worry, Isaak, once this is done, it’s done, alright? You’ll heal up in no time.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t watch,” Sasha said nervously.

“No shit,” Isaac didn’t mean to get harsh but he was more than a little stressed. He laid down on the table, clinging to the edge on either side to try and let go of some of the tension in his body.

“Sasha,” Tanya grew more firm. “Are you going to be able to hold him still?”

“I’ll manage,” Sasha stood at the end of the table behind Isaac’s head, a hand on either shoulder. He seemed to be actively trying not to look at him.

Isaac’s clawed hands gripped the edge of the table as he felt the blade pierce his chest. It moved deeper, pressing into bone now, and Isaac grabbed onto Sasha’s wrist, waiting for Tanya to break a rib. Sasha’s skin was sweaty with nerves and Isaac swore for a moment he was shaking, but had no time to contemplate this concern from his friend. Isaac let out a gasp. Before he could scream from the sharp crack of shattering bone Tanya had cut into his lung and he was too busy choking on blood to do much else. Isaac couldn’t comprehend the level of horror he felt as Tanya _reached inside his lung _to fish around for the bullet. Isaac knew his body was attempting in vain to heal around the blade and clawed hand now inside of him. It was the strangest and most terrible thing to feel weight on his chest from the _inside_. Isaac thought -and hoped- he would black out soon enough.

“Got it!” Tanya was now holding the bullet in her bloodied fist. Isaac felt the pressure leave his chest and with another sickening crack his rib restored itself. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Isaac, still struggling to catch his breath, gave her a look as an answer, a hand going to his chest where he could feel the tissue finally repair itself underneath the slick blood covering his skin.

“That was horrible,” Sasha spoke it aloud for him. “I could _see_ your bones.”

“Thanks for that,” Isaac managed to speak hoarsely, moving to sit up and almost collapsing back onto the table if not for Sasha helping him steady. The room still felt blurred, the only thing he could properly focus on was Sasha pulling his arm around his shoulders and helping him stand. Sasha was so much smaller than him, but he held him together. Isaac didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t focus on the warmth of Sasha’s body pressed against his. “This has been… a rough night…”

“Good news. It’s morning now,” Sasha teased, helping Isaac back to their room.

“I gotta take a shower. This is too much blood, even for me,” Isaac managed. “I… I think i can stand on my leg now.”

“You sure?” Sasha was slow to let go of him. Isaac put a hand against the wall to make sure he could stay on his feet.

“I’m good,” Isaac forced a smile which was probably less than comforting since there was still blood on his face.

“Okay,” Sasha still seemed to hesitate. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he spoke so softly, as if afraid of what his words might do. Isaac swore for a moment Sasha leaned closer, before thinking better of it and quickly leaving him alone in their room.

Isaac was struggling to wrap his head around all of this. Around Sasha and the pack and the fact that he was still here. He wasn’t sure if he should be asking how or _why_ he was still here. Not that it mattered, but Isaac was ready to go home.

The thing was, he wasn’t sure if that meant Paris or Beacon Hills.

Still, Isaac’s main goal for the next 24 hours was to get cleaned up and some rest. He sat against the wall of the shower, head in his hands as blood turned the water red and then pink around him. His whole body felt exhausted, like after a particularly rough lacrosse practice. Isaac didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. He didn’t even know if any of this was worth it. The sparingly little information he had managed to funnel to Jeanie didn’t seem like fair compensation for the harrowing events of the past few days and the promise of more fights to come. Isaac was just so _tired_. He wasn’t sure why he was fighting this battle, because he was stuck here, unable to see if it was actually helping anyone. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep forever, but first he had to let Jeanie know he was alive.

_I’m okay. Made it back to the house. No one is suspicious, but not going to lie it got pretty rough out there. I bled a lot so. Never make me do that again. Everyone here is just trying to recover, but they’re weak at the moment. If the Solovyovas have hit the other camps just as hard I don’t think this side will be planning any attacks soon. Stay safe._

Isaac, his job finally done, collapsed onto his bed. He would not wake for ten hours. He would have slept longer, but it was Nikita who woke him up with a knock on the door.

“Allô?” Isaac mumbled in french in his drowsiness.

“Sorry to be a bother, but I needed to thank you,” Nikita entered cautiously, looking him over with surprising concern to Isaac’s wellbeing.

“...thank me?” Sure, Isaac was half awake but still, Nikita wasn’t making sense. He sat up, trying to focus properly.

“We’ve had our differences, Isaak, but you gave your blood for this pack. Sasha won’t stop talking about you. You’d been prepared to die for him, to die protecting this home. That deserves some credit, my friend,” Nikita sat beside his bed, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, looking contemplative. “You’ve said several times that you want to be of service to our cause. I want to let you do that and this definitely proved you aren’t afraid to get your hands dirty.”

“I’m not,” Isaac felt a rising anxiety now, knowing he would have to accept whatever was offered to him regardless of the consequences.

“I know, Isaak,” Nikita smiled, seeming endeared by Isaac’s enthusiasm. Isaac just hoped to keep it that way. “You’re good in the med bay. You’ve helped people.” Isaac said nothing, sensing there was more to it. “And you lived with humans for quite a while, yes? Even after you were turned?”

“Yeah, I guess..?” Isaac was growing confused now.

“Well, a majority of our people here are born wolves, and those that were bitten were freed from human society quite quickly,” Nikita looked at him carefully. Isaac struggled to read what those dark eyes were thinking. The silence in the room was growing more and more stifling. “The job I have in mind for you won’t be pretty, but no one here knows how to take care of humans.”

“Take care of..?” Isaac frowned, arms folded across his chest, his concern only growing.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard, we tend to keep it quiet, people don’t feel safe knowing there are humans here, but we keep prisoners out in the old bunker and I have to admit our healers are at a loss for how to treat their injuries. We just don’t fully grasp how much a human body can take,” Nikita seemed almost embarrassed. Still, it felt like a severe understatement considering they were most definitely talking about torturing people for information.

“And you think I could help with that?” Isaac said carefully, hoping his disgust and horror wasn’t written on his face.

“Well, yes,” Nikita said. “I know it isn’t exciting, but it’s important to the cause. You’d be working beside the enemy, if that thrill counts for anything.”

“If it’ll help, I’m in,” Isaac agreed despite the thought turning his stomach. A pause. “The bunker is where you guys have all those serious meetings too, right?”

Nikita laughed, taking Isaac’s curiosity for the excitement of a budding soldier. “Yes it is. I’m afraid you won’t be around there much, but if it makes you feel better, you’ll probably cross paths with some of the more legendary folks in Alyosha's army. I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Isaac hoped he sounded interested enough as he tried to work out how that might be useful to him. “What about Sasha?” Isaac didn’t know why he thought to ask, but he knew his friend wanted something to do as well.

“Sasha has been quite helpful in the med bay as well these past few days,” Nikita nodded goodnaturedly, but Isaac could already tell he was going to say no. “But to be quite honest, I don’t think he’s got the stomach for it. It won’t be pretty work, Isaak, but that comes with the territory, I’m afraid.” Nikita stood to leave. “But, hey, if you mess up trying to keep these people alive, there’s very little harm done. We’re going to kill them all eventually, anyways.”

“Okay. Makes sense,” Isaac said a little hoarsely. He couldn’t think of what else to say. Nikita seemed to think he was brave enough for this, but considering Isaac actually sympathized with the people Nikita was talking about made things much more complicated.

“Thank you, Isaak. For more than a few things,” with a nod Nikita left him to deal with that conversation and all its gruesome implications.

Isaac flopped back onto his bed, hands covering his face as if to hold back his growing headache. “What the fuck are you doing, Lahey?” He muttered into the empty bedroom. _What you have to,_ he couldn’t help but think. The fact of it was his discomfort didn’t matter. He was one locked door closer to hearing whatever the hell these people had planned for his family next.


	8. Chapter 8

“Wait- _you’re_ going into the bunker? You, the guy who loves disrespecting Nikita’s authority. The guy who-” Sasha glanced to the door, “the guy who dated a human, who lived down the road from the Argents with a couple of emissaries, _you’re_ gonna help Nikita get his hands dirty?”

“I said I wanted to help,” Isaac shrugged, fiddling with his hands at his sides. “Tanya was going to show me the ropes later today,” he still looked to Sasha for some form of reaction. “I know this was something you wanted.” 

“_This?_” Sasha scoffed. “Cleaning up bloodied humans, helping throw away bodies, that is not what I wanted. I wanted to protect our people, so, I’m happy in our med bay. You can keep playing doctor for a bunch of psychopaths.” 

“Oh. Well, in that case, good,” Isaac nodded, unsure if he needed to feel relieved or not. “I… I’m not exactly excited about it myself.” 

“Wait,” Sasha turned from the kitchen counter where he and Isaac had been prepping for dinner while Tanya was out. “So, why are you doing this?” 

Isaac wasn’t sure if Sasha was more curious or concerned. Isaac also wasn’t sure if he had answers. 

Isaac exhaled through his teeth, fiddling with the knife between his fingers. “I… I want to be useful. That’s all.” Isaac wondered if Sasha could hear the lie. If he could tell that Isaac was more than a little horrified by the idea of cleaning up after Nikita’s murders. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Sasha reached out, grabbing onto his arm, forcing him to pause. “I know I don’t want you to.” 

“You don’t?” Isaac spoke softly. He searched Sasha for some sign of _why_ and only found himself thinking of how small Sasha was. Far smaller than Scott. Far more breakable and far more in need of his help. Yet Sasha still focused on how Isaac was doing, much in the same way Scott would have. 

“I don’t think it would be good for you,” Sasha pulled away, a serious frown forming and his eyebrows furrowed with an intensity to rival Derek. “But… I mean, not like I can stop you. Just… just know that you shouldn’t do this for him. For Nikita, I mean. If you’re gonna do this, don’t hurt yourself for him.” 

Isaac was taken aback. Sasha was actually rebuking Nikita. Rebuking loyalty to him. Isaac wanted to believe this meant Sasha wasn’t blind to the realities of what they were involved in, but Isaac also couldn’t expect him to not be afraid of and angry with the hunters Isaac would soon be healing. 

“Isaak, there you are,” Tanya returned to the kitchen, going to the sink to wash her hands of blood. Isaac’s stomach turned. “Sasha, hope you don’t mind if we pull him away, but I think we need him,” Tanya sounded almost teasing. As if the injuries they now needed help with were a joke. Although to these people, they were. “You’ll need supplies, I presume?” 

“Yeah,” Isaac set aside the knife he had been using to cook in preparation to instead sew up far more violent wounds. “I mean- I think it depends. What… what did you do?” Isaac couldn’t stop staring at her hands, still faintly pink. Tanya had always seemed so warm. Fierce and unafraid to tell her brother off, but Isaac hadn’t seen her get bloody yet. 

Tanya smiled apologetically, drying her hands, “well, he’s got a hole in his stomach,” she pointed to her own torso, to a spot just below her ribs on the right side. “It’s not too deep. Do you think it’s worth saving him?” 

“I…” Isaac blinked, struggling to put words together. “I can try.” 

“That’s the spirit, dear, now come on. I’m a bit out of my depth here, normally the goal is to cure the wolfsbane and that’s about it,” Tanya nodded to the stairs where they returned to the medical bay. “Take whatever you need. We can always get more. And the stuff the humans need we don’t have much use for.” 

Isaac stared around the room at herbs he was sure Bhatt or Deaton would understand, but he was at a loss. He went with what he knew. Isaac had, not too many years ago, patched up serious head wounds, tattered fingernails, even cracked ribs, with nothing but toilet paper, tape, soap. Ibuprofen if he was lucky. Then again, his father had always been careful to avoid fatal injuries. It was the strangest thing, the man was capable of being so brutal and so calculated. People expect anger from abusers, mindless anger, but Isaac had always found his father was careful. His father was not a stereotype. He didn’t drink heavily or chew him out with slurred curse words, he _waited_. He waited for an excuse and exploded into violence just to watch Isaac cower. He seemed to hurt him more for the satisfaction than any actual rage. Isaac noticed his father smirking rather than furious more often than not. That tended to frighten Isaac more, because Isaac could try and avoid anger. If his dad just wanted to hurt him for the _fun_ of it, there was nothing to do besides survive it. 

Isaac pulled away from the brooding of long since healed injuries. He grabbed a bag and filled it with rolls of gauze and a waterbottle. There wasn’t much of either considering werewolves were meant to heal before bandages or sanitizing would be necessary. Isaac noted there weren’t any regular painkillers, but he also realized that Tanya and the rest wouldn’t want him to use painkillers on these people. Isaac rummaged through a drawer. 

“Do you guys have needles and thread somewhere?” He asked. Isaac remembered Allison had known how to sew up wounds. Isaac himself had no proper training, but vaguely recalled trying to sew up a particularly nasty cut on his leg. His father had broken a bottle, it shattering jaggedly, and had shoved his son to the ground on top of it. Isaac had sliced open his thigh on impact and it hadn’t stopped bleeding even when his father left him there with one last kick to the ribs and a vague threat of _you better have this cleaned up by morning or there’ll be hell to pay_. Isaac had desperately hunted for a sewing kit while his dad sat around watching tv. He’d used Cam’s lighter to sanitize the needle, and had made a mess of his own skin attempting to sew it up. He had only half managed it, the pain was too much, and instead had just tied an old shirt around it as tightly as he could. The bleeding had stopped by the next day, but his father was happy to fix that as Isaac had been too busy worrying about bleeding out to clean up the blood and broken ceramic from the kitchen floor. 

Isaac had to get out of his own head. He hadn’t thought through the other side effects of cleaning wounds to his mental health. There was more to this than just the current conflict. There always was. Isaac struggled to focus even more as Tanya handed him a sewing needle and thread instead of anything meant for human skin. Isaac hadn’t done so well sewing himself up, but he hoped this time around he could be stronger. “One sec- I need something to sterilize it.” He looked around the med bay as if expecting to see a lighter somewhere. Tanya waited patiently for him to return with Cam’s. 

“Ready, then?” Tanya was a lot calmer than he was. “We keep the bunker locked up, so if you need to go in there to tend to a patient you’ll have to get one of us to let you in,” she seemed to laugh at herself for calling their prisoners _patients_. “And any advice at keeping them alive would be much appreciated. The real problem is we don’t know at what point things are fatal. Sometimes we don’t realize we’ve gone too far until they stop breathing in the middle of a conversation.” 

_Conversation._ It was interrogation. What would Scott think of all this? Isaac did _not_ want to go there. The abject horror his Scott would feel about all of this was enough to make Isaac feel sicker than he already was. Maybe this was the one thing Isaac was better at than Scott was. Putting aside his morals for the sake of a cause. Isaac found he didn’t like being better at something than Scott. 

Isaac found his discomfort grew when Tanya unlocked the massive steel door at the end of a slope underground. It _was_ an old bunker from the cold war. Had he expected it to be open and airy with lots of windows? Isaac just had to force himself not to think about the fact that he was walking into a giant freezer. Underground. Narrow hallways. Stuffy air. Only one exit which was currently being bolted shut behind him. _Maybe they found you out, Lahey. Maybe Tanya’s leading you down here to tear you apart. Then she’ll go back up to the kitchen, wash her hands of your blood, and help Sasha make dinner._ His pessimism didn’t let go easily. Not somewhere this dark. 

The hallway continued to slope downwards slightly, layers of doors barring the next depth away from potential radiation. Thick metal doors on either side were sealed and windowless. The main room of the bunker was just ahead, between two connecting doors of the hallway continuing onwards. This room had a massive table underneath a yellowed overhead light, on it were maps of Europe, lists of names and addresses beside numbers. If Isaac had more time he could probably piece together what it all meant, but in passing he had barely had time to translate what he could see. 

“I know, who would think war would have so much paperwork,” Tanya misread his staring. “You see these fancy meetings aren’t nearly as fun as they seem.” Isaac thought back on hours sitting silently at the Argent table while Jeanie argued on his behalf and plans were made for him. 

“I can imagine,” Isaac turned ahead to the next hallway, Tanya leading. “So, where are they?” Isaac tried to refocus on the thought at hand. 

Tanya opened a side door. Inside there was one man bound to a chair, a blindfold over his eyes. Isaac realized how terribly familiar this scene was, except this time it was the hunter bleeding, not him. There was blood still flowing steadily from a wound that had been haphazardly covered in cloth and duct tape. 

“We covered the wound, but it’s still bleeding. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Put a bandage on it to soak up the blood?” Tanya asked. Isaac also noted how absolutely out of touch born wolves were. They had virtually no understanding of how humans worked. 

“No, I mean- yeah you’re supposed to cover the wound, but you’re supposed to stop the bleeding with pressure,” Isaac knelt down beside the man who had yet to move, his head hanging limply against his chest. Isaac could smell the blood pooling on the ground, but there wasn’t a smell of infection or disease. 

“Is it too late? Do you think he’ll wake up again?” Tanya tried to look at what he was doing. “If you don’t think he will, don’t waste the bandages. But if you think you can get him conscious for a few more hours that’s all we need.” 

“I can try,” Isaac muttered. The guy’s shirt was already tattered and Isaac tore it away from the wound easily. The man stirred, groaning as Isaac pulled at the feeble attempts at scabbing around the wound. Isaac winced on his behalf. It looked like someone had dug a claw into his side and had twisted it. Deep. Isaac felt nauseous. He washed the wound carefully, blood continuing to seep out with it. He got his needle and thread, using Cam’s old lighter to clean it. Isaac took a deep breath, trying to steady his hands before beginning the slow and uncertain process of sewing the wound shut. Isaac had failed to do this on himself once before, but he had seen it done to himself successfully several times. Isaac wasn’t sure if that would be enough. Isaac tried to move quickly, the man seemed to be regaining consciousness. The flow of blood had slowed considerably. Isaac wrapped the man’s torso in the bandages tightly. He didn’t know how long it might hold up, but it was something. Isaac glanced behind him where Tanya had been watching in morbid fascination. 

“That’s all I can think to do,” Isaac stood. “I’m not an expert or anything. No idea if he’ll wake up, but I don’t think he’ll bleed out any time soon.” 

“Brilliant, Isaak,” Tanya clapped him on the back. She stepped past him and backhanded the prisoner across the face. Isaac flinched, his nerves shot by the memories that came with such a sound. Tanya seemed disappointed when the man barely stirred, going limp. “Well, it might take more than that to get him conscious. I’ll walk you out. We’ll have more work for you later, but that guy needed help the most. He ran one of the Solovyova’s outposts. When we grabbed him he was burning a bunch of notes, smashing up a computer. We’ve spent more than a few days now trying to, ah, persuade him to recall them for us.” 

Isaac nodded, not really paying attention or really caring. He was mostly trying not to think about where he had just come from and instead focused intently on the table as they passed it once more. Isaac caught a few town names, but Isaac could not get anything important in passing. He needed to get to the point where he could pause in that room and have a look. The good news was that room was between him and his new job, the bad news was Isaac had just kept a man alive so he could be tortured again. That did not rest easily on the mind, especially as Isaac knew had that man bled out he would have been saved from whatever Tanya had planned for him. Isaac had just stolen him from a merciful death. Guilt was an understatement. 

“I’ll probably need you again later tonight, but he was our biggest concern. Couldn’t have the bastard dying on us. Thank you, Isaak. I do think you’ll be a big help to us,” Tanya clapped him on the back, Isaac doing his best not to think about the blood that was on those hands not too long ago. Isaac all but ran back to the house, his head buzzing with a dozen incoherent thoughts. 

“Isaak,” Sasha stopped him as he moved to go upstairs. “You okay?” 

“Fine,” Isaac said distractedly, already pushing past him. 

Isaac was about to go into their room, but there was blood on his hands. He scrubbed it off the best he could, but soap and water couldn’t clear his conscience. He didn’t realize how shaky he had gotten until he tried to type on his phone. Isaac sighed into their empty bedroom, hands curling into fists as he tried to force himself to calm. Isaac had no idea what he was doing. Isaac was inclined to think bitterly of Scott and his unwavering morality, but he had to remind himself that when asked Scott had explained that he had no idea what he was doing at all times. This didn’t make him feel any better. Isaac for once was not desperate to contact the Argents with news, not that he had any to send anyways, rather he was quick to look up _how to treat wounds in an emergency_. He refused to sit, pacing as he skimmed the first page. Okay so far he had done good, run water over it to clean it at first. He had not bothered to properly wash the wound with soap and water. Nor had he dried the wound before wrapping it in bandages. The first article on DIY stitches was, unsurprisingly, written by some insane mom from the US, but he didn’t need instructions for sewing up a little cut. Where was the guide for fixing a buddy’s stab wound? 

After some more digging he found more professional advice for treating a wound when getting proper help wasn’t possible. Turned out his sewing job wasn’t too bad. He’d used thread, but apparently dental floss was also a good bet. Most important part was cleaning the wound. And to stop bleeding the biggest advice was pressure. Isaac just wished he could do more. Or that he _actually_ knew what he was doing. Isaac spent the next hour looking into treating infected wounds. Other than antibiotics, the only recommendation was cleaning the wound again. Isaac was no doctor. He didn’t know how much people could take either. Not to mention considering his patients were only meant to survive long enough to be interrogated he wouldn’t be allowed to give them painkillers either. 

At this point he was just waiting for Tanya to come back for him. He had taken the the little leather bag from the med bay and searched for more useful things. It was still mostly herbs and weird powders that he had no hope of understanding. Still, he collected more bandages and got some more waterbottles. He also took a bottle of soap from the pantry, even though the thought of putting soap into someone’s wound made him wince. 

“What’ve you got there?” Sasha asked him carefully when he finally returned to the kitchen. 

“Supplies. For when Tanya needs me again,” Isaac sighed. 

“And you still want to do this?” Sasha asked, stirring something on the stove absentmindedly. 

“Yeah. Don’t see any other option,” Isaac crossed his arms over his chest, gloomy at his self inflicted predicament. 

“You did this to yourself, my friend,” Sasha shook his head. “I tried to talk you out of it.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Isaac muttered ruefully. He had a goal in mind, but getting there was a different beast altogether. He had to find a way to be alone in that bunker. He was far closer than he had been before, but in the mean time he had to deal with the consequences. “Give me something to do,” Isaac joined Sasha by the counter. “Before I start ripping my hair out.” 

“Don’t do that. Your curls are one of your best features,” Sasha teased. He seemed to process what he had said after the fact and was quick to turn away from him. “You can start on the dishes.” 

Isaac did not have the emotional capacity to process that and instead went to the sink to distract himself. Isaac spent the next half hour with his hands in soapy water. Regardless, his hands did not feel clean of the blood they had encountered before. Isaac hated that Tanya had told him that he would be needed again. It meant that the rest of his evening was spent in a state of dread. 

He had almost thought that Tanya had forgotten about him until she turned up at their bedroom door, this time hands free of blood. This didn’t exactly make Isaac feel at ease. 

Tanya knocked lightly. “Sorry, Isaak, I know it’s late, would you mind just doing a quick once over of the group? I did what you said and made the bandages tight, but some of them aren’t looking good.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Isaac followed her out, knowing that Sasha was staring after him. Isaac wasn’t sure if it was judgement or concern or a mixture of both. 

Isaac had to try and make some progress as they made their way across the lawn. “So, if I’m gonna do this, do you think I’ll be spending a lot of time in the bunker?” Isaac asked for two reasons. One, he would appreciate the warning before spending more time underground, two, if there was any possibility of Isaac being left alone down there long enough to retain any of the information that was taunting him from the table. 

“I’m afraid so. At least until the rest of us stop killing them,” Tanya said. “Well, stop killing them _accidentally_ at least.” 

“I feel bad that you have to wait around for me to finish patching them up,” Isaac hoped he wasn’t being transparent. 

“Don’t worry so much, Isaak. You’re being a big help,” Tanya, now further down the dark corridor, began to sort through her keys. “If I have somewhere to be, I’ll let you know.” 

This first room had one occupant. A young man, blindfolded and bound like the last. Isaac was disappointed to find this one was still conscious. Tanya once again lurked in the doorway as Isaac crouched down beside the man, setting his bag aside. Isaac pulled his tattered shirt down from his shoulder, which seemed to be covered in the most blood. Isaac winced sympathetically when he flinched and tried to pull away, unable to see what he was doing. It wasn’t like Isaac could whisper words of comfort with Tanya right behind him. 

“This… This wasn’t from claws,” Isaac couldn’t think of what else to say. The blood was not from a _cut_ exactly. It was from a broken shoulder poking through the skin. 

“Well, he was thrown around a bit. You don’t need to worry about the bone, just make sure he doesn’t bleed out,” Tanya explained. 

Isaac was thinking fast. “Look, this one is gonna take a lot more work. Do you want to show me the others and then you can leave me here to take care of this one?” 

“Yeah, sure. Guess you know your way around by now,” Tanya shrugged. She returned to the hall, Isaac following. “Those three doors.” She pointed it out. 

“Wait, you’re leaving now?” Isaac frowned. 

“Unless you want me to stay?” Tanya raised an eyebrow before tossing him her keys. “Make sure you lock up.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” Isaac spoke without really thinking about it, more focused on the fact that he had already gotten what he wanted. Isaac listened to the building as Tanya headed to the house. There were four heartbeats besides his own. Each one behind a locked door beside him. He was alone. And he was torn. Part of him wanted to rush back to the main room and start taking pictures of every folder and file he could find. The other side said he should probably help the people suffering next door. 

Isaac turned around and opened the next door. It was too easy to patch up a few bloody wounds, the first two he visited being unconscious, the next was awake. This was going to always make him pause, it seemed. A woman, probably early 30s, tied down against the back wall looked up as he entered. Isaac shut the door behind him loudly to announce his presence. He wasn’t sure why this woman, unlike the others, had ropes binding her legs together as well. He soon learned why as she viciously tried to kick him the moment he walked close enough. 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Isaac jumped back before she could land both of her feet against his right leg. “I’m not gonna hurt you, just here to patch you up.” 

“Fuck off,” she did her best to spit at him blindfolded. 

Isaac didn’t have the heart to be pissed off or amused. “Come on, just- just let me help you.” 

“You want to help me? Untie me so I can throttle you,” she snarled, yanking against the ropes keeping her pinned to the wall. 

“Please,” Isaac kneeled down just out of range. “That cut looks bad,” he nodded to her left arm, before remembering there was no way she could see him nodding. “Look… no point in sitting here bleeding when I can help you.” 

“Shut up you fucking dog,” she aimed another kick in his direction. “You aren’t here to help me.” 

“Fine. Your choice,” Isaac sighed, a profound feeling of uselessness growing. He got up to leave. “I’ll stop by again, before I leave, if you change your mind.” 

This seemed to take her by surprise. “My _choice?_ What the fuck are you on, little wolf? You think they put me down here because it was my _choice?_” She scoffed. “Do me a favor and stop pretending you’re here to help any of us. You know exactly who you’re helping.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Isaac muttered. “I’ll… I’ll come back. Just in case you change your mind…” 

Isaac returned to the hallway, feeling agitated. Isaac had no idea how to patch up that man’s shoulder. Isaac pulled out his phone. No signal. Isaac didn’t know what he had expected, but it meant he couldn’t look up how to help him. He would do what he could. 

Isaac returned to the first room, the man once again flinching back. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Isaac could speak to him now with Tanya no longer watching. “I’m just gonna try and fix you up, okay?” 

The man didn’t answer, only pulled away when Isaac sat beside him. 

Isaac frowned, looking at the broken bone without a clue of what to do about it. He couldn’t put the guy’s arm in a sling and it wasn’t dislocated, it was _broken_, badly too. There wasn’t an easy fix for this. 

“I’m really sorry, man, but this is gonna hurt. A lot,” Isaac tried to be quick, pushing the bone back under the skin and hopefully close to where it was supposed to be. The man screamed the moment he touched him and it wasn’t like Isaac could do anything besides try and get it over with. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. I’m gonna wrap your shoulder, okay?” 

Realizing now that Isaac was genuinely trying not to hurt him, he nodded, whimpering as even that movement put more tension on his shoulder. Isaac felt like he was trying to duct tape the guy together, but at least now the man wasn’t at risk of a bone popping out of his skin again. At least until the wolves cut him open again tomorrow. He looked back through his bag for something, _anything_, that could help this guy. 

“You want some water?” It was all he could think to offer. This entire process felt painfully slow. The helplessness of figuring out how to do all of this didn’t help. 

“Please,” the man finally spoke, voice hoarse and afraid in a way Isaac found too familiar. Isaac brought the water bottle to him, tilting it back. It was undignifying that this guy couldn’t even drink for himself, but there was nothing Isaac could do about that. 

“I’m sorry,” Isaac spoke under his breath. If he had heard him he didn’t acknowledge it. “There’s nothing I can do. I just-” Isaac sighed, staring at the blood on his hands with a tightness growing in his chest. 

Isaac got up to leave before pausing. There was one more thing he could do, and there was no one here to stop him. 

Isaac put a hand on the man’s arm, him flinching back, unable to pull away still tied to the wall. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’ll feel better soon,” he spoke so softly now, as if that could somehow soften the wounds Isaac could do nothing to prevent. He _could_ take away some of this man’s pain. 

The change was immediate. His entire body relaxed just as Isaac tensed. A sharp burning pain spread up his arm, thinning to a dull ache all over his body. He held on. The pain eventually stopped lessening and instead that burning remained in his whole arm, Isaac finally pulled away, gasping for breath as the pain sluggishly filtered through his body. His hand where he had touched the man felt bruised inside, almost like after taking out an IV. He had held on too long. But it seemed his patient had passed out in a state of peace this time. 

Isaac got his bag and headed back to the cell of a woman who seemed desperate to tear him apart. Not that he could blame her. 

“Is it you again?” She snapped to attention the moment the door opened. 

“Said I’d come back, didn’t I?” Isaac hesitated. “Look, I know you don’t think there’s a point to me helping you, but… would you let me take away some of your pain?” 

“What, you gonna give me some aspirin and be on your merry way?” She said dryly. 

“Not exactly. Could I… Could I just show you? And if you don’t want me to, that’s fine, but I promise it will help,” Isaac approached slowly, taking it as a good sign that she didn’t try to kick him again. 

“What’re you… what’re you gonna do?” She at least sounded curious. 

“I’m gonna touch your arm, okay?” Isaac reached out slowly. 

She nodded a deep frown etched on her face. Isaac had to focus on keeping himself steady as the pain once more began to build in his body and cause his arm to shake. His tolerance was growing worse. The pain did not fade from the moment he began and once he finally pulled away his entire body felt sore, like after a rough lacrosse practice, or a long night with his dad. He would get over it soon enough. These people wouldn’t. 

Isaac stood, immediately getting lightheaded and having to lean on the wall to stop himself from collapsing back to the ground. It was like he had inherited their bloodloss. 

“Neat trick,” she spoke quietly, for once not in a state of fury. 

“Yeah,” Isaac said absentmindedly, trying to stand on his own two feet. He could keep his balance without holding onto the wall. That was a good sign. “You sure you don’t want me to bandage that arm?” She shook her head. “Do you want some water?” She hesitated more at this. She shook her head again. “Fine. Your choice,” he said it again, a little sarcastically this time. 

“What you did,” she spoke just as he turned to go. “It won’t… it won’t make me better, right?” 

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing else I can do, it just takes pain,” Isaac didn’t know what to do with the guilt gnawing at his insides. Even if he wasn’t really responsible for any of this. 

“No, that’s good,” it was almost like she was trying to _comfort_ him. “That’s good…” A pause. “You still there?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t want to get better,” she started and Isaac had no idea why she was talking to him. He would listen, though. “They’re gonna kill me anyways so I’d rather die sooner than later, if you don’t mind.” Another pause. “Would you kill me?” 

Isaac felt frozen. What the hell could he say to that? “I…” Some part of him truly wished he could say yes. “I’m so sorry. I… I can’t.” 

“Of fucking course,” she scoffed, cynical once more. “Typical. Don’t know why I actually thought you were alright.” 

“Come on, I mean, if I did… they wouldn’t let be back here. I wouldn’t be any good to anybody then,” Isaac offered his excuse feebly. 

“So, why’re you doing all this, then?” She asked. 

“Because I have to do _something_,” the answer came easily to him. “I can’t just go along with it without trying to… I don’t know, make all this easier, I guess.” 

“I meant something more specific, but fine. If you’d rather get philosophical. Don’t know what I expected from the French,” she sighed. 

“What?” Isaac felt momentary panic. 

“...What?” 

“French. Why’d you say ‘french’?” Isaac asked. 

“Because you sound French..?” She tilted her head, confused. “Your Russian isn’t great. Your accent bleeds through a lot. But even that’s kind of... wonky.” 

“Makes sense,” Isaac calmed. This woman knew nothing about him. Isaac had learned his Russian from the French, so of course it sounded like their accent. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.” 

“Whatever you’re involved in, kid, at least you’re trying. Now, if you’re not going to kill me, get out, will you?” 

“Fine,” Isaac muttered, leaving with the strangest feeling of comradery for the people trapped in this bunker. 

Still, Isaac had helped those he could, which meant he could return to his true mission. Isaac froze once more, listening for another heartbeat. The bunker was empty as far as he could tell. He returned to the meeting room, scanning the room for some sign of a camera or something. Nothing. Unsurprising, but he had to check. 

“Okay, Lahey, you’re on the clock here, what looks important?” He spoke to himself under his breath, scanning the papers for some sign. “Fuck,” he sighed. He had no clue what he was looking for. He hovered over the nearest maps, snapping pictures of whatever was available. What was the harm in sifting through some folders? Who would notice if something had moved? Isaac worked hard to wipe all the blood from his hands, but, he noted, some of the papers already had blood on them. 

Moving as fast as he could, he photographed as many papers and maps as he could find. Whatever he had found, Jeanie could try and disect it. Isaac thought for a moment he had heard something. A noise down the hall. His heart racing, he quickly replaced everything the best he could and all but ran for the exit. No one had shown up. He was getting paranoid again, just like when he was living with his father. Someone coming or not, he had best not push his luck and head back to the house. 

“You look like hell,” Sasha noted once he returned to their room. 

“Do I?” Isaac said dryly, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he muttered, leaving Sasha with some strange manner of irritation. All of the people in this house were complicit in what was happening in that bunker. Then again, so was he. 

Isaac barricaded himself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor and getting out his phone. 

_Hey Jeanie. Got a little present for you. This stuff wouldn’t happen to be useful, would it?_

Isaac thought he deserved to feel a little proud. His first day down there and he had gotten maybe fifty pictures of plotting from the Volos. So what if he was exhausted and kind of wanted to cry? Surely he could keep this up, right? 

Knowing his therapists would be ashamed of him, he decided to bury that emotional turmoil and just take a shower. 

The blood washed off. He didn’t feel better about what he had just dealt with. 

“Isaak?” Sasha turned to him once the door opened before quickly turning away. “You’re not dressed,” he stammered. 

“I’ve got a towel,” Isaac said a little gruffly. Still without the emotional capacity to deal with Sasha’s feelings alongside his own, he just got changed. Isaac pulled Cam’s lighter out of his pocket, going to return it to its place in his bag. Beside his picture of his mom and Cam, the bag of yarrow and wolfsbane Bhatt had given him, and the silver claw. Isaac put down the lighter and picked up the claw, wrapping the leather chord around his hand and holding onto it until the metal grew warm from his grip. 

He put it around his neck. 

“‘Night, Sasha.” He turned off the lamp. 

“You’re not doing well, are you?” Sasha spoke into the dark after a while. 

“Go to sleep, man,” Isaac grumbled. 

“How can I when you look like the world is sucking the life out of you?” Sasha snapped. “There’s nothing I can say that will get you to not do this?” 

“Nope.” 

“Fine,” Sasha shot back. Isaac heard rustling from the other side of the room before the weight of Sasha lying beside him followed. “Don’t try and bullshit me, Isaak, your heart hasn’t slowed down since you got back.” A pause, not talking, just laying beside one another. “Is this… is this okay?” 

Sasha was close enough that their hands brushed together before both of them pulled away. Isaac once more held on tightly to the silver claw around his neck. _What about Scott?_ “Yeah, this is okay,” Isaac spoke softly, made weak simply by this kid next to him actually caring. “Go to sleep, Sasha.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for a lot of suicide talk. Nothing pertaining to Isaac, but things get really heavy. Like. Not just from that. The world's really dark right now so my writing is really dark too and if you aren't ready for that right now I don't blame you. Come back when you are!
> 
> ALSO:  
I've updated my Isaac playlist, so I'll link that [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/00E1p2DMo2HbXXYyMHLAWB?si=UmxtFm3lTRawd-lHljz7dw) again.

Isaac’s life had grown all the more exhausting and monotonous. His days were often spent underground, obsessing over people destined to bleed out. And dealing with the aftermath.

Isaac hadn’t known what to do when he went to check on a patient only to find they had stopped breathing. Isaac knew compared to the others, those that died were lucky, that didn’t help him feel better about failing to help them. The worst part of a patient who stopped breathing, following the terrible realization that he couldn’t hear a heartbeat, was cleaning up. The first time since he had had no clue what to do, he’d all but ran to find Tanya. She was worried at first, Isaac appearing out of nowhere white as a sheet, but upon hearing what had unsettled him she just laughed. 

“It’s okay, Isaak, sometimes we lose them. No harm done. I’ll show you what to do,” she had led him back outside. Isaac fought of his nausea when Tanya brought him a wheelbarrow. “I’ll show you where we put them…” 

Isaac was a grave digger again. 

Or rather, he _wished_ he was a grave digger. 

That would be better than what Tanya had showed him. Isaac had known he’d have to keep his composure no matter what came next, but even these people couldn’t expect him not to gag and shudder at the scent of a dozen rotting corpses. It wasn’t even a mass grave -that would imply someone bothered to dig -instead it was a ravine, a naturally formed pit about six metres across and eight wide. More than enough room for the many more to come. 

After Tanya had showed him that first time, Isaac had felt numb until he was finally left alone, then he’d puked his guts up and spent almost an hour locked in the bathroom, just sitting on the floor trying to remember how to breathe. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this. And he couldn’t pretend that things were getting any easier. Each time he dumped another body it took the rest of the day for his revulsion to return to the normal levels of irritability and stress that had become the standard for him. 

Isaac was consumed by an exhaustion that felt almost familiar. Isaac was constantly tense, always waiting for something worse to happen. The only time he wasn’t waiting was when he was dealing with gore and taking on more pain than he could handle. It distantly reminded him of living with his dad; living with constant tension which was only broken through pain and violence. 

He couldn’t decide if the living were easier to take on. It hurt just as much to heal them as it did to have them die. Every wound he fixed came with an extra dose of guilt which could only be tempered by draining their pain until it left him weak and suffering. Isaac’s prior binge into self harm back in Paris had involved looking for fights, hoping to dish out violence to receive some in return, now he was hurting himself in the desperate hope that somehow he could ease the pain for some else. 

There was nothing else to blame for this current destructive path. Before he had been angry at his friends, at Chris, at his grief, at everyone who had wronged him. Now the self harm was a direct attempt at atonement for what was haunting him. Isaac felt a perpetual rising tension underneath his skin and in the air around him. Sasha had taken to avoiding him at certain hours of the day where it seemed he could sense Isaac was an explosion waiting to happen. Things would boil over eventually. 

And now, he’d lost another one. 

Isaac stood frozen in the bunker, staring at the glassy eyes of a young man who was too thin. He’d survived there longer than others, so he was already a halfway skeleton anyways. Isaac didn’t even need the wheelbarrow, he could carry this guy over his shoulder easily. Isaac didn’t do either of those things. He just kept staring. 

The man’s left wrist was broken, he had forced it from the chain keeping him to the wall, and if that wasn’t gruesome enough, he had taken that freed and broken hand to tear through Isaac’s careful stitches in his torso. He had bled out. That was clear enough from the sickeningly large pool of blood covering the room and now sticking to the bottom of Isaac’s boots. The man had killed himself by undoing Isaac’s desperate attempts to keep him alive. 

Isaac was on the wrong side of this. He had already known that, but looking at a man who had been so eager to die and realizing that the only thing between him and that fate had been Isaac’s doing- that was more than he could handle just then. 

The coppery scent of too much blood, the slight tinge of infection from too many open wounds, he left that behind and returned to the long dark corridor dividing the bunker. He did not stop, he did not collapse against the wall and sob at all the brutality that was being thrown at him, he simply went to the main room and listened. No one else was alive in the building. There were no other captives for him to take care of other than the corpse in the room behind him. He took pictures of every plan he could find. 

Isaac didn’t have the energy to try and sort through the actual information he was collecting, he was barely keeping it together as is, but he could keep sending it to Jeanie and let her figure it out. Once this was done all he could do was clean up. Isaac returned to the room. The corpse hadn’t moved. This didn’t surprise him, but it only added to the oppressive melancholy, the stagnation of his whole reality. Isaac was going to lose his mind eventually, but he had so much power now. He could send everything the Volos bothered to write down back to the Argents, and he _was_ taking away the pain of these people, even if he felt like he should be doing more. This wasn’t enough to soothe Isaac’s dread, but it was enough that he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. All he had to do was ask and Tanya would never ask him to come back down here. To push it even further, all he had to do was contact Jeanie and hike to the nearest town and he could go home. 

Shame he wouldn’t, though. He was _useful_ here. And he needed that, to know he was doing something to help. It was the only thing that could sedate the guilt he had every time things got too quiet. Every time Scott drifted to the front of his mind and all he could think was _how could you leave him?_

Isaac didn’t need the wheelbarrow to carry this corpse. And maybe holding it- holding _him_, it was a _him_, dead or not this was a person- in his arms was just another way to punish himself. 

...Maybe it would be easier not to think about it as a person. 

Isaac carefully picked up the corpse, exhaling sharply at how light it was. Even if he hadn’t torn through his stitches, there was no way the hunter would have survived much longer. Losing 30 pounds in a month tends to lower one’s resilience. Isaac had very few things to be fortunate for, but the fact that his father had never actively starved him was one of them. Well, he thought _actively_ since short of putting locks on the fridge his father had never given him the freedom to try and take care of himself. He didn’t know if you could _passively_ starve someone, but that felt more apt. 

Outside of Isaac’s persistent brooding, this man was still more skeletal than Isaac had ever considered a possibility for himself. Isaac tried to ignore his cargo and focus on just getting this over with. It should have been easy to carry, but Isaac was exhausted. He felt sore and bruised despite nothing having happened to him. He hadn’t taken anyone’s pain since the day before but after so much of it, the feeling still lingered. Isaac struggled to open the door, forced to drop the body while he locked up behind him. Isaac winced at the way the man’s neck bent so limply, so _painlessly_ when it hit the ground. It was early evening, the sun just starting to set. Isaac usually was working in the bunker well into the night, but there was no one left for him to take care of. The members of the pack who stayed outside more, the more feral ones beyond the trees, all stopped and stared at him and his current companion. They all knew what he was doing, but it was probably unnerving either way. 

Isaac ignored them, picked the body up once again, and headed to the dirt footpath behind the hill the bunker was set into. The path felt like some dainty hiking trail in the preserve back in Beacon Hills, it was far too civilized for where it led. 

Isaac had found a new purpose for his scarves. He wrapped his face once he got close enough, but his eyes still stung at the overwhelming scent of rot. The trees in this part of the woods were so quiet. The only life that felt safe in such a place were the scavengers, birds he didn’t recognize, native to this country, not his own, were perfectly content in the pit. Isaac had, after that first trip, refused to look down. He didn’t want to see the decomposing bodies. In his time in the graveyard, he had been aware of corpses, but they had been so pumped full of chemicals, packed away in pretty boxes, that Isaac hadn’t had to consider it much further than that. 

It felt cruel to just dump the body and get out of there, but what was he supposed to do? Stand around, say a prayer? Isaac was just so tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted Jeanie and Romy to show up and tell him this was all over, that he could go home. 

That maybe he could go back to Beacon Hills. That he would have time to figure out if that was what he wanted. 

Instead he would be stuck waiting for news here, alone. Doing everything he could but still not enough. Everything took longer. The walk to the pit had felt long but the walk back felt longer. Back at the house the usual rustlings of the day were dying down as people returned to their homes, whether the big house or the cabins in the woods that still were a mystery to Isaac. 

“Hey- you done with… your stuff?” Sasha didn’t know how to phrase it as he joined him on the porch. 

Isaac was saved from responding by a sound that sent every ounce of tension that had been rising inside of him over the edge. Out of the corner of his eye he could see it, a hand raised, then the sound of skin hitting skin. The words surrounding it meant nothing. 

“Hey!” Isaac turned to face the one responsible, a scrawny woman in her thirties, a young teenager, maybe 13, rubbing his cheek bitterly beside her. In his impulsiveness he found himself spouting english. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He was headed her way before Sasha had even realized what was happening. The woman stared at him, not afraid, but utterly confused. She started to pull her son away, likely to go home away from the crazy American. 

“_Hey!_ I’m talking to you- you don’t lay a fucking hand on him, do you hear me?!” Isaac couldn’t bring himself to hold back. “If you fucking hit your kid again I’ll-” 

“Isaak! Please, slow down, she doesn’t understand you!” Sasha was close behind him. 

“_Arrêtez!_” Isaac barely heard Sasha, an outburst of French before he composed himself enough to get the right language. The woman didn’t seem any less concerned by Isaac shouting at her Russian, her eyes glowing blue as she pulled her son behind her, “what is wrong with you?! You don’t hit your kid! You don’t- _do_ that!” Isaac wished he could be a little more articulate, but he was just grateful for what he could say in his anger. “You don’t hit him or I _will_ stop you-” Isaac was about to shove her away from her son but he was slowed down by Sasha grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back with all his might. 

“What’re you-” Isaac paused if only out of surprise. 

“Stopping you from doing something stupid!” Sasha panted, struggling to hold back a werewolf twice his size. 

By the time Isaac had turned back around the mother and son had disappeared into the woods. That did nothing to stop the blood pounding in his ears. “Why’d you stop me, Sasha?” Isaac knew there was something far too aggressive in his tone and in the way he stepped towards him but he needed somewhere to put all this rage and helplessness. 

“Why- Because you can’t just- I don’t even know _what_ you were trying to do- but you can’t- _harass_ people like that! You think she and her pack would’ve had a problem tearing you to shreds if you acted out like that? Self defense is more extreme here than you think. Who do you think Nikita would’ve backed up?” Sasha was perfectly logical, but Isaac could only be offended. 

“Am I going crazy?” Yes. He was. But that was unrelated. “Did you want me to do nothing- She _hit. her. kid.”_

“I don’t agree with it- but you’ve got to know it isn’t that simple, her husband died in the last raid, their whole family is suffering. People who’ve been through a traumatic event- sometimes their responses aren’t rational, and I know that wasn’t right, but it’s their business.” 

Isaac didn’t know if he could put the fury he was feeling into words, but he could sure try. “That’s- That’s _bullshit._ You think a dead family justifies hitting your kid? You think that kid is dealing with that loss just fine while his mom hurts him?” A dead wife and a dead son didn’t explain anything. It didn’t explain why his dad had been happy to hurt him. And Sasha’s conclusion did nothing to calm him- _it’s their business._ Just like how what his dad did wasn’t Jackson’s problem. Just like how every goddamn teacher decided a kid coming to class with bruises on his face wasn’t their business. 

“It _is_ my business,” Isaac hissed. “I’m guessing it won’t be _your business_ until you decide it’s bad enough to be worth doing something about. Or what- no matter how bad it is you won’t do shit, because it’s his mom, so she gets to do whatever she wants to him?” 

“Isaak… that wasn’t what I meant,” Sasha spoke softly now, still holding onto Isaac’s sleeve. He at least had the decency to look like he felt bad, the problem was it looked like he felt bad for _him_. 

“Yeah. Whatever,” Isaac yanked away from him and headed back into the woods. It was hard to avoid someone when you shared a room with them but he could do his best by getting out of the house. This did mean he was left bored and angry in the middle of nowhere, growing colder and darker by the minute. Despite his previous experience, Isaac wished there was some way he could numb himself, something he could take to make all of this a little easier. Instead he would just keep walking into the dark. 

No one was coming for him. Had he really stormed out here hoping someone would pity him? That someone would somehow fix this mess he’d gotten himself into? No one was going to appear just behind him asking if he was okay because normal people wouldn’t do that, not after the outburst he just had. 

Scott would have. 

Scott would have understood all of this despite Isaac feeling that surely he was betraying everything Scott had stood for. He was playing his part in terrible things. 

And then there was something he wasn’t sure if he should be ashamed of. All these bodies piling up… Not all of them were from bleeding out or a punctured organ or thirst. 

Far too many days ago, Isaac had done a bit of research and had requested certain medications from Lev next time he went into town. Over the counter sleep aid combined with painkillers and another brand of sedative, he had concocted what he hoped was a coma in a tablespoon. Testing it had been far harder than creating it. 

“Stop- I don’t know anything… I don’t know…” The man was already half dead from his slurred speech and sluggish terror, his face swollen and bruised. 

Isaac had knelt down beside him, far enough away that it was clear he wasn’t going to hit him. “I’m not gonna hurt you, alright?” 

“Please… please you’ve got to help me… they don’t stop, they don’t stop…” The man couldn’t even sit up, blood dried across his chest. This prisoner was probably still in his twenties, and here he was, helpless and pleading like a child. Isaac didn’t feel right having power over someone else like this. He needed to give some of that power back. 

“Hey,” Isaac spoke so softly, with every ounce of pity he had resented from others who had treated him the same way. He couldn’t help it- he had to show these people kindness where he could. Isaac took off the man’s blindfold. He squinted blearily at the dim room, at Isaac in front of him and the sealed door further behind him. 

“You’re young,” was all the man could think to say. Isaac laughed harshly. 

“Yeah, I am. You’re young too,” Isaac moved to his bag, feeling an ache return to his chest when the man flinched. That ache rarely seemed to leave nowadays. “I’m not gonna do anything to you, man. I promise.” Isaac moved slowly so as not to scare him, even though he was just holding a waterbottle, which the man accepted desperately. 

“Why’re you..?” The man was staring at him, taking him in with a desperate hunger, a _hope_ that made Isaac sick with the shame of it. “Can you help me? Please- They’ll be back soon and-and I just can’t do this anymore, I can’t-” Isaac was confident that if the man had had more energy he would’ve been sobbing at this point. It was more disturbing that he seemed too weak for that. 

“I- I am so sorry,” Isaac couldn’t afford to get choked up over every poor soul he was forced to keep watch over, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt every time. “I can’t do much,” Isaac reached out and touched the man’s arm, gasping as more pain flooded his system. He should be used to it by now, but it was the same every time. It only ever got worse. 

“That… that helped. How’d you do that?” The hunter was in awe of the ability that had grown into a curse for Isaac as well as a blessing. 

“You guys don’t know as much about werewolves as you think,” Isaac shrugged. This was it. His last chance to change his mind. “Look, I can’t do anything to stop them- I just can’t. But I- I can give you something.” Isaac didn’t know why his voice shook so much. Or why he could do _this_ but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill the woman who had asked him too long ago. It hadn’t mattered much anyways. That woman had died only a few days later. 

Isaac went back to his bag, returning with a thin plastic bag that he had cut small enough to hold his little experiment, the top of it tied off. It was small enough to hide in his cheek. And if his - victims? patients?- whatever- had to swallow plastic after biting through the bag- well, considering the goal of the concoction, it was a small price to pay to get rid of the evidence. 

“I don’t know if this will kill you, but it should get you out of it enough that the rest of all this won’t hurt so much,” Isaac held it in his palm, unsure of what to do now. “It’s your choice.” Bullshit. That little addition was just Isaac’s attempt of stopping his guilt. “If you’d rather die now than have this continue, I’ll give you this. You don’t even have to take it now, you can keep it in your mouth, you’d have to break it open and swallow it for it to do anything. But if you do choose not to use it- please keep it hidden, I don’t care how you manage it, just, if you get caught with it I won’t be able to offer it to anyone else-” Isaac knew he was rambling, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

“You’re… giving me a chance to die?” 

“It’s the best chance you’ve got, unless you’ve got a better way to kill yourself.” Isaac shook his head like a wet dog. “Sorry- that was really inappropriate, and callous, I don’t know how to do this-” 

“A lot of people have died here before me, haven’t they?” He didn’t sound afraid. 

A pause. The scent fresh in Isaac’s memory of too many rotting bodies. “Yes.” 

The man seemed to be thinking hard about his choice. Isaac was mildly horrified to see that he was crying. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. My fiancée- she didn’t even know I took this stupid mission- who’s gonna explain what happened to me-” 

“I will.” 

The man stared at him, eyes wide. Isaac was just as surprised with himself as this guy was. 

Isaac sat back against the wall beside him, used to the dried blood beneath them by now. He put one hand to his forehead, trying to pull himself together. “Look… I am doing the best I can here,” not a great start. “And I know I’m not giving you any good options- but if you- if you give me her email address-” Isaac laughed a little hysterically, but it suited the situation. Her _email address_\- what was this, spy kids? This whole thing felt like some sick joke. “I’m sorry- my bedside manner could use some work…” 

“No- but- you’d do that for me? Isn’t that… Isn’t that dangerous for you?” This poor guy was already dying anyways, but Isaac wanted nothing more than to open that door and carry him outside. Like somehow there was a reality where Isaac could get this man back to his fiancée alive and well. 

“I’ve been sending a lot of risky emails lately,” Isaac couldn’t stop responding with inappropriate sarcasm. Call it a coping mechanism. He forced himself to focus. “But… yeah. I know it’s not a good offer by any means, but… I can write to her. I mean- _you’ve_ got to give me the message,” Isaac said quickly, “I’m no good at writing- but yeah, I can do that.” 

The man just stared at him again, looking bewildered and oddly _amused_. He eventually looked away, Isaac relieved as he wasn’t sure how much more attention he could take. The man shook his head, “you’re the weirdest guardian angel I could’ve gotten stuck with.” 

Isaac scoffed incredulously, “I- I am _not_ a guardian angel. Come on- I’m helping you _kill_ yourself, I mean-” Isaac shut up, put off by how amused the man looked. Looking at him like they were _friends_. It wasn’t like Isaac hadn’t made similar jokes before. _Patron saint of abused youth_ and all that, but this definitely felt different. 

“You got a way to write this shit down?” He asked. 

“Um- yeah-” Isaac scrambled for his phone, careful not to crush the little bag of poison he still had beside him. He opened up an empty note, knowing there was no way he could send the message down here. “So- what’s her name? I mean- your name- I mean- her email- christ, I don’t know how to do this…” Isaac shouldn’t be the one falling apart. That sure as hell didn’t stop him. 

He gave Isaac an email and the name Yenna, “and I’m Kilment.” 

“Clement?” 

“No, _Kilment_. But for you english, same thing,” Kilment shrugged. And oh boy did Isaac wish he didn’t have a name to attach to the corpse he knew he would be dumping soon. 

“I’m Isaac,” Isaac’s voice shook a little and he didn’t know why he shared his name- it was dangerous, really- but somehow it felt fair. 

“Isaak, huh? I wish I could say it’s good to meet you, Isaak, but I’m afraid I can’t,” it was like Kilment was trying to make _him_ feel better. And that sure helped make Isaac feel worse. 

“So- So what’d you want to say to her? To Yenna?” It took only a few seconds of Isaac transcribing for him to realize this wasn’t going to work. Isaac’s Russian spelling was absolutely terrible. He could barely read their script and this was bordering on impossible even if the guy told him what to write. Isaac shook his head, “I can’t do this, you’ve got to type it.” 

Kilment raised an eyebrow before raising his chained hands mockingly, “I don’t know if I can do much better, friend.” 

“Yeah- one sec-” Isaac got up and got a ring of keys from the hall, unchaining the man’s hands as he had done for corpses many times before. He had just done this when they both froze, a realization hitting each of them. Isaac was well aware of the fact that the door was open behind him and Kilment was now unbound. Isaac spoke first, softly, but nothing about him was going to plead with this man not to do what he would have in his place. “Look, you do what you have to, but you’ve got to understand outside of this is another locked door and outside of that dozens of werewolves who would kill you on sight. And, well-” A nervous sort of laugh, “you haven’t finished telling me what you want to write to your girl.” 

Kliment sighed, “yeah, I’m starting to get that this is the end for me,” despite the morbidity of the statement, Isaac could tell he was teasing. That didn’t ease any of Isaac’s shame. 

“Here,” Isaac muttered, passing the man his phone before leaving to give him time alone. It wasn’t like he could call anyone for help trapped down here. Isaac returned to the doorway, staring down the empty hall. If someone were to come into the bunker now, what would Isaac do? Shut the door and try and chain the guy up, hide his poison and his phone before whoever it was heard Isaac’s panicked heartbeat? 

Of course, no one came. Why would they? Why would a werewolf who had fled persecution and helped clean up torture victims for weeks now be helping one write a suicide note? Even as minutes continued to pass by, no one came. 

“I… I’ve run out of things to say,” Kilment called out to him. “But I wish I could say a hundred more things. Funny, isn’t it?” Despite his words, Isaac couldn’t imagine someone looking any more depressed than this man did staring down at Isaac’s phone. “You’ll… you’ll have to explain. I did, a bit, explained that I chose to die, but… but I didn’t choose to leave her.” A pause. Isaac staring at him, him staring down. “So, just, maybe preface by explaining what you did for me, why you’re sending it.” 

Isaac nodded. Kilment offered his phone back. “You should probably chain me up again,” Kilment wiped his eyes one last time, “god, what I’d do for a cigarette… hell, I’d _die_ for a cigarette.” They both laughed. Neither of them quite sure why. 

Isaac couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so Kilment kept talking. “Since I probably won’t be able to talk with that thing in my mouth- thank you, Isaak. You gave me a way to say goodbye to my wife,” Kilment closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “She was supposed to be my wife,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything. He looked back up at Isaac who would have done anything to trade places with him. “You gave me my choice back. You… you gave me a say in all this. So, thank you. Truly.” 

Isaac wanted nothing more than to shout at him _why the hell are you thanking me?! I’m just killing you._ But he wanted this to be on this man’s terms. And it seemed like he wanted this to go calmly. 

“Do one last thing for me?” 

“Yeah?” Isaac finally responded, his voice having gone incredibly hoarse in the past few minutes. 

“Don’t stick around, alright, friend?” Kilment found a way to repay the favor. If he hadn’t said that, Isaac would have stayed the whole way through. And Isaac didn’t think he could have handled that. Kilment gave him permission to leave. “You get me set up to go, and you leave, okay? You make sure that get’s back to my Yenna.” 

“I- I- don’t know if it’ll work- you might just sleep for a while-” Isaac couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. 

“Hey, hey,” Kilment tutted him gently. “It’s okay. And how about this- I’ll scrape an X into the blood on the floor if I wake back up, so that way you’ll know if it worked, okay? Some data for you.” Isaac wanted to tell him to stop teasing, to stop joking and being light when they both felt the weight in this room. “This is the part where you give it to me, Isaak. I can’t reach, you know.” 

Isaac nodded, taking the little plastic bag from the floor, trying to brush off the dust despite knowing nothing could matter less right now. Thoughts of other times pushed to the surface, thoughts of Boyd and Erica and Beacon Hills and _Scott_ fought for his attention. He did his best to bury them. Even if he couldn’t bury any of the other dead. As he gave this man his way out, Isaac wildly thought of communion, placing bread onto someone’s tongue, the flesh of christ and all that. He had no idea why, Isaac had never even been to a christian church service and his memories of going to Shabbat services with his mom were faint at best, the blurred senses and feelings of a toddler before he could comprehend what the world would do to him. 

Isaac refused to let himself spiral deeper into his own head and memories of a time that was more than long dead. He had to be here for this, even if only to punish himself, or even just to feel like he did something right. Kilment nodded to the door as if to say, _now get going, Isaak_. Isaac wanted to reply with another apology, another empty promise, instead he just headed for the door, forcing himself not to look back as he locked that man in with his fate. 

The act of emailing that woman was almost more painful that what came before it. Isaac was careful not to read the letter, knowing it wasn’t for him in any way, but he did add a preface just as the man had asked. Explaining that she shouldn’t write back to this email address because he wouldn’t be able to respond, that he was so sorry, that he tried to make it painless and that her husband had been brave. Her _husband_. He had clearly wanted to marry her… Isaac decided not to include that last bit. To just finish it with the promise that he had been brave. After he sent that message and deleted the copy of the note on his phone Isaac hadn’t cried. He hadn’t broken down or grieved in any capacity. And he definitely hadn't checked the color of his eyes. He had returned to anger. To numbness, to the hollow echo of pain that he had drained from every wound he could. He had kept that dull tension going for a long time. 

And now, so many days later, his anger released in a way with no relief, a longing for a life with Scott and his pack that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever really had, and no ending on the horizon. Where did that leave him? Alone in the woods, knowing that he was not just alone in the woods he was utterly _alone_\- only now did he cry. He collapsed onto the wet ground, legs crossed and his head buried in his hands, sobbing into the dark for a man he didn’t know and a dozen bodies he had carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I tend not to leave sappy author's notes but I really hope you all are staying safe and your loved ones are safe too. If you managed to read this chapter, thank you! But also, how'd that go for you? Because this one was... rough.  
Take care of yourselves, guys. <3


	10. Chapter 10

Isaac wasn’t sure if he had a body count or not. Only a few of the people he offered his way out to took it, not enough to rouse suspicion, more than enough to leave Isaac haunted. Isaac hated those days, where he would leave them to it and knew that there would be another body waiting for him when he got back. The first had confirmed for him- he never woke up. The fact that it worked didn’t make him feel any better about it.

To make matters worse, Isaac’s brooding and apparent decline in mental health had finally garnered the exact attention he had been hoping to avoid. 

“Isaak, could I have a word with you?” Nikita had caught him alone, having just left Sasha in the kitchen to go get his stuff for today’s trip to the bunker. 

“...is everything okay?” Isaac hoped he didn’t sound as defensive and irritable as he felt. There had been a sudden influx of torture victims in the past few days which meant Isaac had been drinking up more pain than he had water. That left a lasting effect. Isaac was sore all over, every touch came with more pressure, just brushing shoulders with Sasha left him wincing. Who knew taking on pain from so many people and for so long would lead to what felt like a full body bruise? Isaac knew from experience, of course. Just about, at least. 

“Well, I think that depends on you,” Nikita placed a hand on Isaac’s back and guiding him away from the hallway and into an empty sitting room. Great. This wasn’t meant to be a short conversation, then. 

“Does it?” 

“Please, sit down,” Nikita gestured to the sofa. Isaac understood demonstrations of authority well enough. This wasn’t courtesy, it was dominance. Isaac sat, resisting his usual inclination to sarcasm. Nikita stayed standing, leaning against the back wall, pausing to just stare at him. Isaac knew he was trying to stress him out. Isaac had tiptoed around his father’s brutal silences for days at a time, waiting for violence. Nikita’s quiet paternal judgement was a joke. 

“We’re worried about you, Isaak,” Nikita finally spoke up, his voice just barely patronizing under that gentle concern. 

“‘We’?” Isaac feigned confusion. 

“All of us, son. Tanya, Lev, Sasha. Your behavior… it isn’t good for any of us,” Nikita explained. Isaac didn’t believe a word of it. Sasha wouldn’t go complaining to any adult here, Tanya was more direct than this, and Lev wouldn’t give a shit in the first place. 

“My… behavior?” Isaac refused to give answers, only ask questions. At least until he was more clear on Nikita’s angle. He doubted he was suspecting Isaac was a traitor, but Isaac had been careless lately, his anger, his avoidance, it was going to catch on eventually. 

“You shouted at Julia yesterday. Startled her and her son quite a bit,” Nikita offered. Of course. Isaac had blown up and that warranted a ‘talk.’ 

“_I_ startled _her?_” Isaac scoffed. “I guess your whole ‘protect all werewolves’ policy doesn’t apply when its a parent hitting their kid?” 

“Is that what all this is about? Really?” Nikita said it like he already had decided on the answer. 

“Do you think I can’t do this job?” Isaac knew he was coming across defensive, but he couldn’t think of any other way to act. 

“Do _you_ think you can’t do this job?” Was Nikita’s counter. 

“I think that what I do is stressful, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing,” Isaac folded his arms across his chest. “I think I saw a woman hit her son and I decided not to sit back and let that happen.” Isaac leaned forward, now fully on the offensive. “What about that seems out of place to you?” 

“Isaac, I just want to help you,” Nikita said. _Not fucking likely,_ Isaac thought. “But you cannot take matters into your own hands and start a conflict with others of our kind.” 

“Oh? Were you gonna do something about it?” Isaac felt a nagging fear that he was looking for violence again. 

Nikita stared at him, something a little less sympathetic in his eyes now. “I understand that you were never taught how to behave or be a part of a pack, but we let people live how they choose. It’s the only way we maintain order with this many packs in one place. I take care of my people from the _real_ threats.” 

“Right. That way he survives the hunters so his mom can keep tormenting him.” Isaac’s ability to play his part was waning as these people kept on making excuses for what was more than a warning sign of abuse. 

“Sometimes I just do not understand you, Isaak,” Nikita shook his head. “I am here because I want to help you. Time and time again you have made me doubt your loyalty to our cause, you have disobeyed me and grown bitter and childish. I expect better from you.” 

“You don’t even know me.” 

“You think so?” Nikita smirked as if Isaac had given him something he wanted. “You’re angry because the world is unfair. And now that you’re trying to do something about it the world has become unfair to you.” 

Nothing the guy had said was _wrong_ exactly, but the world had always been unfair to him. “You think I don’t know how unfair the world is?” 

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that it’s _still_ unfair despite your work against it,” Nikita reasoned. 

“Look, I am doing my job, I am helping the cause, and yeah, it’s tiring to mop up blood every day, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop any time soon,” Isaac was tired of this but he knew if he stayed hostile he wasn’t getting out of this conversation. 

“We need you stable, Isaak,” Nikita said. “Maybe you should take a break. We can afford to lose a few more prisoners if you can get your head on straight.” 

“I am stable,” Isaac insisted. “I guess… seeing all these prisoners reminds me that the enemy is closer than I think.” 

“The ones you’re encountering are often unconscious,” Nikita pointed out. “If you want to take your stress out on someone, take it out on them. Keep your anger away from my people.” 

Isaac noted that he hadn’t said _our_ people as he always seemed to. That was cause for concern. 

“I understand.” 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Isaak. If you ever want to talk, know I’m around,” Nikita walked behind him, causing the hairs on the back of Isaac’s neck to stand up. Nikita put his hands on Isaac’s shoulders, far too close to his neck for comfort. They remained there for just a moment too long. “You take care of yourself.” Nikita let go and Isaac could finally breathe again. 

Then Isaac was alone. Isaac buried his face in his hands. “He’s gonna kill you if you aren’t careful,” he mumbled. _At least he doesn’t suspect you’re a fucking hunter spy, right?_ That somehow wasn’t very comforting. 

“Hey, what did he want?” Sasha had apparently been waiting just outside. 

“You following me, now?” Isaac knew he was being sharp, but he didn’t trust how close he was getting to Sasha. 

“Yeah. I’m following you,” Sasha grew sarcastic. “Got nothing better to do it was this or play doctor on murderers.” 

“Funny,” Isaac said dryly. 

Sasha scuffed his feet back and forth, looking down. “So what did Nikita want?” 

“He was nice enough to check up on me,” Isaac said dryly. 

Sasha looked furtively around the hall, “did he threaten you?” He whispered. 

Isaac was absolutely startled. Sasha was admitting that Nikita was a threat- that Sasha might even be afraid of him, felt far beyond what he expected Sasha to be aware of. Isaac knew for many people they didn’t know they were in an abusive relationship until they’re out of it, but for Isaac the realization had happened sooner. Sure at first there was a middle ground where he thought that even though his dad hit him he still loved him, that it was his fault really. Even when his dad had first threatened to kill him it hadn’t hit him that this might be worse than he thought. It was only once it had happened repeatedly, once his dad had actually almost killed him, did he realize how dangerous things had gotten. And even then it hadn’t felt real, the wrongness of his life, but he _had_ been aware of it. Sure, that didn’t stave off the self loathing, and he had been too terrified to leave on his own, but it did mean when Derek offered him a hand he had been ready to take it. 

Sasha actually seemed to have some semblance of awareness, not of abuse per say, but Isaac didn’t know how to explain to him that he was in a cult. This was progress, but what if Sasha only realized fully when things got too bad for him to leave? 

“He didn’t threaten me- well, kind of- but Sasha-” Isaac pulled Sasha back into the empty room he had just left. “Has Nikita ever threatened you?” He matched Sasha’s hushed tones, one ear listening out for anyone nearby. 

“What?” Sasha’s first response was not a ‘no.’ “Has he- No. He’s never threatened me- I don’t go looking for trouble like you do,” he tried to deflect it back onto Isaac. 

“You’re not being straight with me- I thought you Russians were supposed to be direct?” Isaac grabbed onto his arm, gently, as Sasha started to turn away. “Okay, not Nikita- how about Lev? Or Tanya?” 

“Isaak, you need to stop pushing, this is why he came to talk to you in the first place- You _push_ too much-” 

“What- do you think that’s dangerous for me?” Isaac knew he was cornering Sasha, both physically and in the conversation in a way that would have terrified a younger Isaac, but he also knew it was effective. “You know everything here is a little off.” Sasha wasn’t looking him in the eye, but he wasn’t pulling away anymore. “I know you’re scared, I know that after everything, after the hunters keep getting closer, I know you think this is the only safe place you have, but-” 

“I’m not the one coping by going down to that bunker every day and acting out my sadism on hunters I can keep tied to the floor,” Sasha grew vicious and defensive in an instant. 

“What-” Isaac was thrown for a loop- what was he meant to say to that? “What the hell do you think I’m doing out there?! _I’m_ not the one torturing people!” 

Sasha started to corner him, stepping close enough their faces were mere inches apart. Isaac refused to step back. “Isaak, you go in there and you decide if they live or die. _You_ fix their wounds, you decide how much they suffer. You don’t cause the wounds, but you sure have fun with them after,” Sasha almost seemed disgusted. “You think that doesn’t count as sadism? You think we aren’t watching your anger get worse and worse? You think that has nothing to do with what you’re doing in there? Why else would you keep doing this if not to let out that anger? What- Playing doctor got boring so you had to play hero with that woman and her son, right?” 

“You don’t know me,” Isaac growled, towering over Sasha, but Sasha refused to back down, staring into his eyes with an intensity it took willpower not to stray away from. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to-” 

“What _do_ you want, Isaak?” Sasha was so incredibly close, but Isaac found himself leaning closer rather than pulling away. The space between them was shrinking more and more. Until Sasha closed the gap. 

Isaac hit the sofa behind him, staggering as Sasha held onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to his height, pressing their lips together. Isaac’s brain was short circuiting, but he was kissing back. It wasn’t anything like kissing Allison, this rough desperation wasn’t meant for Beacon Hills. It was the kind of neediness meant for the lonely and the afraid. Isaac fell back onto the couch, Sasha on top of him, both of them barely breathing as their hands wandered and their lips refused to slow. Isaac’s hands tangled with Sasha’s curly hair just as Sasha found his way underneath Isaac’s shirt. Chills spread from every brush against his skin. Everything around them, the house, the bunker, this entire compound faded to black as Isaac clung to the only outlet he had that didn’t come with blood. There was still this almost-anger between them, released in biting lips and a harsh touch to whatever bit of exposed skin they could find. It went on long enough that Isaac could think again, that haze fading as shame replaced desire. 

“No,” Isaac turned away, Sasha still on top of him, but once Isaac spoke up he was quick to back off. 

“You okay? Did I do something wrong?” Sasha, all that roughness drained out of him, sat back on the other side of the couch, looking nervous, rejected. 

Isaac sat up, fixing his mussed up shirt. “No, you didn’t,” Isaac sighed. Some pathetic part of him wanted to let go of all of his fear and worry and focus on how nice it felt to have that needy loneliness reciprocated. But Isaac couldn’t kiss Sasha any more than he could leave this place and go home. “I can’t do this.” 

“Can’t do what?” Sasha hesitated, having gone to take Isaac’s hand, but now unsure if he should. “I’m sorry- I think I’ve been misreading a lot of signals.” Sasha pushed his hair back from his face, looking tired. “I don’t know, I just really thought you…” 

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to lead you on, or whatever, I just- I can’t do this,” Isaac stood, putting more distance between the two of them. 

“Can’t do _what?_ If you don’t like me, just say so,” Sasha didn’t move, it being clear that Isaac wanted some distance. 

“I do- Maybe- I don’t know- but I _can’t_,” Isaac hissed, growing more and more angry with himself. 

“Why? You’re- You’re all I’ve got here, Isaak. I thought… I thought it was the same for you,” Sasha made Isaac all the more guilty. It wasn’t deliberate, but Sasha was hurt. 

It wasn’t like Isaac could just explain that it wasn’t the same, that Isaac was entirely alone here and Sasha couldn’t change that. This entire relationship felt wrong. Isaac felt like he was manipulating a kid who already vulnerable here. _Shit-_ he felt like Derek, in the early days. Not evil, not trying to do harm, but far more stable than someone who trusted him and that seemed like a dangerous thing. He knew it was different, that the power imbalance was not in any way the same. Isaac hadn’t sought him out because Sasha was lonely and desperate and afraid or even useful, Isaac had had grown attached because he was the only one here with yellow eyes. That didn’t change the fact that Sasha was a part of the enemy. Isaac was fairly confident if he told Sasha what he was, Sasha would have no choice but to turn on him. They couldn’t build a relationship on that. 

Here he was, debating it as if the truth wasn’t something a little different, a little less present. As if the biggest reason Isaac had asked Sasha to stop wasn’t Scott, who wouldn’t leave his thoughts no matter how long it had been. 

“Sasha, you’re not a bad person. You don’t deserve to be alone in this, but the fact of it is, I just can’t do this. For a lot of reasons. This isn’t a safe time for anything like this to start and…” Isaac sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, just to try and be anywhere but here, to not be trapped, alone, a spy in a foreign country, with no ending on the horizon. “I can’t be with you the way you want me to. I’m not gonna fall in love with you or whatever it is you want from this.” 

“I don’t see why it has to be so complicated,” Sasha laughed a little nervously. “I’m not asking you to marry me.” 

“Oh, so you’d be fine just hooking up and then pretending nothing happened? Like _that’s_ a good idea,” Isaac snapped. 

“I’m not trying to push you, Isaak. I just want to understand,” Sasha stopped for a moment. “I’m sorry that I questioned you. You said no, and that’s the end of it.” 

“I’ve got to go,” Isaac turned to leave. “I was supposed to be out in the bunker like an hour ago.” 

“Wait,” Sasha stopped him one more time. Isaac let him. “I- I didn’t mean what I said, about you going out there and-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“No- Come on, Isaak, it _matters._ I know you don’t like any of this, I know you’re here because none of this bullshit is fair, not because you want to be,” Sasha seemed to mean it and Isaac couldn’t hold it against him. As if Isaac wouldn’t have assumed the same thing had their roles been reversed. 

“It’s okay, Sasha. I’m not mad and I know you didn’t mean it,” not necessarily true, but enough that Isaac could defuse the situation and get away from him. 

“Okay. Fine,” Sasha let him go. 

Isaac was quick to leave and return to his room, grabbing his bag and checking it for his needed supplies. Bandages, disinfectant, clean water, suture kit, and those little suicide bombs he had apparently perfected. 

Tanya had let him know that they ‘had a new batch.’ Horrifying way to phrase it, but the point was Isaac was in for a rough night. This was how it always went. The pack picked up a few hunters after a raid or a fight, Isaac would keep them together best he could for the next month, they all died eventually, another lull, then another _batch_. Isaac couldn’t count how many people he had thrown away, unable to bury them. He didn’t want to look and find out. The smell of the bodies had only gotten worse, that was more than enough for him to deal with. 

He hated that this was now routine. He locked the door to the bunker behind him, just so if he was followed they would at least be slowed down unlocking it themselves, he always moved past the meeting room to the cells. People in pain came before information, even if it meant he missed his chance to take photos undisturbed. The days blurred together anyways. If he didn’t get what he needed today, he’d get it tomorrow. 

Everything felt slower. The act of walking down the sloping and dimly lit hall, the sound of his muddy boots on the concrete, the keys loud in his ears as he unlocked the cell. He had his own set of keys now. That felt wrong. Isaac didn’t want any ownership in this place. 

He had a script now and he sounded so numb, eyes locked on the ground as he shut and locked the door behind him. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’m here to patch you up, that’s it.” He turned to face his first patient and found himself frozen. 

“No, no _no_ it can’t be you- how can it be you?!” Isaac dropped his bag and fell to his knees beside a face he had never expected to see here. “Leo? Leo, come on man, wake up,” Isaac was once again spouting english in his panic. Isaac cupped Leo’s cheeks. He was unbelievably pale, his hair damp with sweat, sticking to his skin. “Viens mec. Réveille-toi, ma chérie. Espèce d'idiot, laissez-moi vous aider,” Isaac mumbled softly to him, both chastising him for being an idiot and begging him to wake up. Isaac pressed a kiss onto his forehead and wincing as he tasted blood. “How the hell did you get here, man?” Even after all this time, English was instinctive. Not like Russian would do Leo any good. Last Isaac had heard about Leo was from Romy and Jeanie over the phone before he took a bullet to the leg. At that time Romy had said it had been a while since they had heard from him but that was weeks ago. The Volos didn’t do prison transfers. Leo must have been taken recently, that was the only option. What that meant, Isaac didn’t know. 

Isaac went back to his bag, rummaging through it with shaking hands. “Fucking typical… this is what you get, Lahey. You’re being punished. You reject Sasha and five minutes later the guy saved your life and apparently had a crush on you shows up with a fucking hole in his head… Okay, not a hole, but he’s fucking bleeding and from more than that so _where did you put the water?_” 

“Isaac..?” Confused, weak, and definitely french, Leo started to stir behind him. “What are you doing here..?” Leo tried to sit up before collapsing back against the wall with a groan. 

“Hey, take it easy,” Isaac found the bottle, offering it to Leo with shaky hands. Leo accepted, but he was quick to pull away again. 

“Why are you down here? Did you get found out?” Leo asked. From the way he was squinting at him Isaac guessed that head wound wasn’t doing him any favors. 

“No, no I’m still-” Isaac listened carefully for any noise in the bunker. Nothing. “I’m still under cover. This is- well, this is my cover. Just down the hall is where I get my intel, and well, this job was the easiest way for me to get there.” 

“What job is that?” Leo actually looked afraid of him, just for a moment, but enough to make Isaac feel just a little more sick. 

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you. And I’m not. Even if that was my job- you know I’d never hurt you,” Isaac was trying to bottle his panic over what this meant. Leo being here- _no one_ had made it out of this bunker alive. 

“I know, but if you had no choice, I wouldn’t blame you,” Leo was too forgiving. It did nothing to ease Isaac’s distress. 

“How- How did you _get_ here?” Isaac started to feel physically ill. How was he going to get him _out_ of here? 

“Just got lucky, I guess,” Leo laughed harshly, stopping with a wheeze from pain. Isaac noticed his lip was bleeding. 

“Hey, we can catch up and all that, but can I check you over? You’re hurt,” Isaac refocused, old friend or not Leo needed help. 

“Ah, it’s not that bad,” Leo shrugged but even that made him wince. 

“What hurts?” Isaac hesitated, worried about touching him. The others were always afraid of him, most of them never got over it, even after he took their pain. Leo wasn’t afraid like that because he knew Isaac, but Isaac knew that trauma wasn’t rational. Leo had had the shit kicked out of him, friend or not he was sure to be jumpy. 

“I- I think one of my ribs is broken,” Leo said. “My right side is all clawed up. The rest I think is mostly just bruising, little cuts.” 

Isaac couldn’t think of anything to do about a broken rib. “Can I pick up your shirt?” Isaac knew Leo well enough that he didn’t need to ask, but it was a habit he had formed by now. Jumpy, vulnerable people didn’t like it when someone just started tugging at their clothes. 

“Fuck- _Just_ that?” Isaac exhaled through his teeth. ‘All clawed up’ was an understatement. “The bleeding has slowed down, so that’s something,” Isaac muttered. Leo gasped, biting back a whimper. 

“H-Hurts- It hurts,” Leo was wheezing still. “And- Fuck- _crying_ hurts- My ribs-” 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you,” Isaac hated how scripted it felt to say that. “I’ll patch you up in a sec, first, let me-” Isaac held his hand, draining away pain was almost instinctive now, he was pretty sure if he were to grab onto someone even outside of the bunker he’d start draining away their pain out of habit. 

“Forgot you could do that,” Leo’s breathing steadied just as Isaac’s grew more uneasy. “Does it… hurt you?” Leo grew more analytical, textbook hunter. 

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine,” Isaac dismissed him. Leo pulled away best he could while still tied to the wall. 

“Don’t you dare hurt yourself for me,” Leo snapped. It was strange. When Isaac had first met Leo he had been so quiet and afraid to cause conflict. By the time Isaac had left he had grown louder, but this was different. Leo wasn’t just talking confidently, he was openly calling Isaac out. 

“You’ve changed,” Isaac smiled softly, it felt wrong for the circumstances. 

“So have you,” Leo added. “You need a haircut.” 

Isaac ran his hands through his curls a little sheepishly. 

“And a shave,” Leo grinned crookedly. “This isn’t exactly the badass spy setup I imagined for you. Guess I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been fancy hotels, guns, and tuxes.” 

“Tuxes?” Isaac scoffed. “More like a lot of venison and a lot of time cold in the woods.” 

“So, it’s not all underground?” Leo asked. 

Isaac felt even more guilty now. _He’s never getting out of here. He won’t be able to use any of this information._ “No, we’re in the woods and… and Romy and Jeanie know where I am. The Solovyova attacked a few weeks ago.” 

Leo paused, trying to think through what Isaac had said. “You’re saying that like there isn’t a way to get out of here.” 

Isaac said nothing. He didn’t know what he _could_ say to that. 

“People don’t… _get_ out of here, do they?” Leo continued for him. 

Isaac shook his head not looking him in the eye, “they don’t.” 

“They’re going to kill me slowly, right? I mean, they’ve already started,” Leo stared at him for a reaction. 

This would be the part where Isaac would offer whoever was trapped a way out. Isaac couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t help his friend, part of his family, kill himself. 

But how could he condemn Leo to being tortured to death? 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo was actually trying to _console_ him. “I’m just glad I won’t be dying totally alone.” 

Isaac stood, unable to look at him, pacing the room. “I can’t- I can’t let you die like this, I can’t put you in a mass grave and write home to Jeanie and Romy and tell them that I watched you die-” 

“It’s not your fault,” Leo pushed. 

“No- No, you don’t understand,” Isaac was more than panicked, he refused. Leo wasn’t going to die. “When I say I can’t, I mean I _can’t_. I am not gonna let you die.” 

“Okay. I appreciate the sentiment,” Leo was both amused and a little concerned. “But not sure what the plan is here.” 

“How are you not freaking out, Leo?!” Isaac knew Leo did not need more stress right now but he just couldn’t understand it. “If you think what they’ve done so far is bad- they are going to _torture you_ until you can’t talk anymore. And sometimes that comes from someone getting a tongue ripped out, not just dying.” 

“Yeah, because freaking out like you are will definitely help me,” Leo said dryly. 

This made Isaac pause, at least for a moment. “I- I’m sorry. You don’t need this right now I just- I can’t let you die here.” 

“Yes, you’ve said that,” Leo replied. “There’s no way you can just stay here and hang out with me all night. If it’s gonna get you hurt, you’ve got to go.” 

“No- They trust me, I’m usually down here for a while,” Isaac said dismissively. 

“This is what you’ve been doing for the past few months? How the hell have you not lost it?” Leo asked. 

“I’m fine- None of that matters, I’ve just got to figure out how to get you out of here,” Isaac knew he was basically ignoring Leo, but he was too busy thinking about how it would feel to throw his limp body onto the pile. 

“Look, if you can’t get me out of here… could you just put me out of my misery?” Leo asked the very question Isaac had been desperate to avoid. But he couldn’t say no. 

“I promise,” Isaac said it far too easily. “But you’ve just got to hold out for a few more days, I swear I’ll figure something out.” 

Leo looked at him carefully. “You’ve done this before.” 

“What?” 

“Helped someone… end their suffering,” Leo said it awkwardly. “You agreed a lot faster than I thought you would.” 

“It hasn’t exactly been easy,” Isaac muttered. 

“I wasn’t saying it should be.” 

“I- I’m sorry,” Isaac buried his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. “I just- I never thought it would be one of you. None of you were supposed to end up here.” 

“Yeah, well. I’d prefer not to be here either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up! We're approaching the 'final fight' type deal which means we're one step closer to Isaac getting home. Hopefully, right? ;)  
(also just in case you guys don't remember Leo- he was the dude who was friends with David and saved Isaac from getting shot when he was outed back in Paris. Maybe you do remember him idk how much he stands out to readers lol)
> 
> Stay safe, guys.


	11. Chapter 11

Time was moving too fast. Isaac was helpless as hours ticked by and he knew that someone was hurting his friend and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Isaak, I’m afraid you’ll have some cleaning up to do when you head back out,” Tanya was apologetic when she pulled him away from Sasha and their work putting together dinner. 

“Why’s that?” Dread was already rising. 

Tanya sighed, seeming irritated, “we lost one of the new ones already-” 

Isaac felt like he had been punched in the chest, like the air was being pushed from his lungs and it took all his willpower not to let his terror show on his face. 

“-damn Lev cut too deep, you know how it is. Just thought I’d give you the heads up, I know dumping bodies isn’t your favorite thing.” 

Isaac wanted to scream at her, _what did you do to him?! Is it him- did you kill Leo? Did you kill my friend?_ Instead he kept his voice level and managed the words, “thanks for the heads up. I’ll get down there soon.” 

Isaac went upstairs slowly, knowing his racing heart was already suspicious, he got his bag like he always did, and he forced himself to walk, not run, to the bunker. One hand kept a tight grip on the silver claw hanging from his neck, letting it ground him despite the fact that a dead friend might be waiting for him. The moment he shut the bunker door behind him he ran to Leo’s room, opening the cell and almost breaking down at the sight of Leo collapsed against the back wall, his torn shirt far bloodier than before. 

“Please, please you can’t be dead-” Isaac heard a heartbeat. “Oh- thank god-” Isaac checked him over carefully. He was just unconscious. Nothing broken. Just quite a few cuts into his chest. Isaac held him for a moment, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes just to listen to that heartbeat continuing on despite all odds. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Isaac was consumed by guilt. He had been cooking with Sasha, talking about mindless things and actually feeling okay for a change, while Leo was out here being brutalized. Isaac had to pause before trying to sew Leo up because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He balled them into fists at his side, pacing for a moment, fidgeting until he could steady himself. 

Before he started even then, Isaac first grabbed onto his friend’s arm, draining away the pain like his own life depended on it. It was the only thing he could do to help so he would do it gladly, even desperately. 

Isaac, once he had taken as much pain as he could handle and then a little more, finally calmed enough to get together a suture and get to work. Leo stirred as he started pushing the needle through his skin. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Isaac muttered, not even looking up from his work. 

“I… Isaac? What’re you doing here..?” Leo’s voice was hoarse and scratchy. Isaac made a note to be sure to give him water before he left. 

“What does it look like?” Isaac teased, but he knew he was still clearly unsteady. It was hard to take anything lightly considering he had been all but convinced he had let his friend get murdered until a few minutes ago. 

“You took my pain again.” 

Isaac didn’t reply. “_Ow!_” Isaac jumped when Leo kicked him in the leg. “What was that for?!” 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Leo frowned. “You look sick, Isaac. And if you’re doing that for everyone here no wonder.” 

“I am _fine_,” Isaac continued to patch him up, just as carefully as before Leo got irritated enough to kick him in the leg. Isaac had faced worse anger and violence from his patients over the past months than a halfhearted kick. 

Leo grew quiet, biting his lip as Isaac continued to close the wounds. 

“I’ll get you out of here Leo. I swear it. I just… just gotta figure out how to do that first,” Isaac finished his work, got Leo something to drink, and after a moment’s hesitation, he held onto Leo’s arm once more, taking more of his pain. 

“Stop that!” Leo was getting more pissed and Isaac was starting to feel a little bad that he was acting against one of the few things Leo had a say in through all of this. 

“I just want to help. And you’re my first today, this is nothing,” Isaac pulled back. “Speaking of… there are others I’ve got to take care of. I’ll check on you when I can, okay? You’ve just got to hold on.” 

Leo looked exhausted, “it isn’t exactly easy, but I’ll do my best.” 

Isaac didn’t know the specifics of what happened to these people when he wasn’t there. He was only ever there to deal with the aftermath. That alone terrified him. And Isaac knew from experience how prolonged pain could be even without much blood to show for it. Isaac’s father could torture him for hours and he would go to school with only a few bruises to show for it. The wounds of his patients didn’t show any extent of their actual suffering. He _had_ to get Leo out of there and soon. 

Isaac forced himself to leave Leo, going to the next room and finding the dead body. Great. He would get to that after he took care of the rest of the living. 

The following patients were relatively simple. Two unconscious, one not too hurt, but another was plenty aggressive, tried to get Isaac in a headlock while he was sewing up a hole in his face, he was unsuccessful, of course, considering he was chained to the wall, but it definitely didn’t help Isaac’s mood. Dragging another corpse outside was also not great. As always, he got odd looks and people kept their distance as Isaac hauled the corpse back into the woods. He was halfway down the path, the body in the wheelbarrow in front of him, when he realized what an idiot he was. 

Isaac had been carrying hunters out of the compound for weeks and people actively tried to stay away from him when he did so. How hard would it be to carry Leo into the woods and not stop until they reached a rendevous where the Argents could get him? Isaac dumped the body quickly and returned back to the house, ignoring everyone around him. He locked himself in the bathroom, getting out his phone. 

_Jeanie this is urgent. Leo got caught and they’re going to kill him if I don’t get him out of here. Can you get someone to the same road the Solovyova dropped me off at by tomorrow night? If not then, it needs to be soon. We don’t have a lot of time._

Isaac had no actual intel for Jeanie and it was sooner than their usual check-ins, but surely she would respond soon once she saw how urgent it was. Isaac felt a little selfish. He had seen so many people die, he had _helped_ some of them die, but because he knew this one he would do whatever it took to get him out. All those justifications of endangering his cover drowned out simply by it being Leo instead of a stranger. It wasn’t fair. None of this was. That didn’t mean Isaac was going to change any of his plans. He was going to fully and selfishly save Leo’s life, damn the rest of them. That didn’t sit well with his conscience, but he had no intention of letting that distract him now. 

Isaac wanted to be out there with Leo, not stuck waiting among people he was learning to be afraid of. Isaac knew how daunting being alone with your thoughts in the dark was. Isaac knew how terrible it was to be trapped for hours on end unable to move, knowing when the door opened he was just as likely to face more violence as he was to be left alone in the dark again. Isaac wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially a friend. Still, there was nothing more risky than spending more time out there than was ordinary for him. Isaac was constantly checking the his phone, for an email, and for the time. Isaac was waiting for evening once again, for when it would be normal for him to go down to the bunker. 

“Isaak?” Sasha got his attention, noticing Isaac was more distracted than usual. “Where’d you go?” 

“Nowhere,” Isaac was immediately defensive. 

“I meant more,” Sasha pointed to his head. “You seem caught up in your thoughts. More than usual.” 

“I’m just- distracted, you know. Nikita… things are weird right now,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Yeah, I know,” Sasha stared at him for a moment, thinking. Isaac didn’t want to know what was going through his head. “Are you okay?” 

“All things considered- yeah, I’m great,” Isaac wasn’t looking at him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Sasha stood. “But come on, let’s go make something.” 

Isaac allowed himself to be dragged along. He and Sasha had continued Isaac’s habit of coping in the kitchen. It went from helping with dinner to a return to Isaac’s baking obsession. By the time all the bloodshed had sapped his interest in anything, Sasha had started to care enough to keep things going, to keep Isaac working. But the ability to be productive, to simply _create_ something that would feed instead of try and repair damage, felt so insignificant when he couldn’t help those who needed him. 

Still, it humored Sasha and kept him occupied, and it put him in good standing with the majority of the residents of the house despite never really speaking to them. 

Isaac missed the Argent kitchens. He missed baking late into the night, sometimes with Romy chatting away, sometimes alone, just him working in the quiet and the dark, his thoughts allowed to settle for once. He missed the sense of control he got from being able to follow a recipe and know the result, to know even if it went wrong there were no consequences, even more he missed not _needing_ that sense of control because for once he actually was in control of his own life. 

Perhaps even more, he missed the McCall house. Partially the late nights after nightmares where Melissa would come downstairs and help him calm, Scott unsure but still eager to assist; but also there was this strange mix of memory and hope of a world where he was back in the McCall house and he was unafraid. A combination of the love he had in Beacon Hills and the mental stability he had gained in France. 

He could still get there, surely. It just felt so distant on the horizon when all that was in front of him was cutting up strips of venison and wild mushrooms, preparing to feed murderers out of necessity, not any form of contentment. 

Isaac was disconcertingly relieved when it came time for him to go down to the bunker again to drain pain from people who likely still wanted him dead and to once more check on his friend to make sure he was still alive. 

Leo was still breathing, but he wasn’t conscious. That was probably for the best. Isaac was pretty sure a few of his fingers were broken. What the hell were these people trying to gain? What could Leo know that would actually be of any use to them? Of course, Isaac desperately hoped they never had that same thought, if they did Leo would be dead in an instant. Isaac was quick to make the rest of his rounds before returning, sitting beside Leo, legs crossed and hands wringing in his lap. 

“I know how to get you out now, man. Just waiting on a response,” Isaac muttered. He reached out, taking Leo’s unbroken hand and letting that pain spread through him. He kept holding on even though it hurt. Isaac had already taken pain from three others that evening, he had even done so for Leo when he had first checked on him, but there was nothing else he could do. Isaac only let go when he felt himself grow dizzy from it, collapsing back against the wall behind him, breathing heavily. Isaac had always been taught that taking on someone else’s pain was meant to be done in moderation, it was meant to be something you did a little but went a long way in making a difference, for Isaac it just didn’t go far _enough._ He had to push himself to his limits. 

Once the room stopped spinning Isaac staggered to his feet, knowing he had one more thing to do. He went to the meeting room, where as usual a messy pile of maps, lists, haphazard notes, were waiting for him. He took the photos mostly on autopilot now, not really taking anything in, that is, until he noticed a particular word underlined above a list of locations. 

_LEAK?_

Isaac felt quite cold all of the sudden. _Leak._ What else could that word mean besides the fact that the Volos were catching on that something was wrong? That all of their plans seemed to slip through the cracks because _somehow_ the hunters knew their next move before they ever even made it? Isaac’s sense of dread was pushing heavily towards hysteria now. The list itself was of encampments and their nearest towns where each one made supply runs. Okay. He just needed to calm down. It seemed like they were theorizing someone in town was somehow collecting information, _not_ someone in one of the camps. And there was a long list of possibilities, it hadn’t even been narrowed to this particular compound. He was safe. Still, now that Isaac’s heart had started racing it was not eager to slow. 

Isaac was far more eager to finish up and get the hell out of there, but he still fully intended on sending what he had gathered to Jeanie. Otherwise, what was the point of all this risk? 

_We will be at that location tomorrow night. Aim for past midnight. Check email regularly in case of a change. DO NOT put yourself in danger for this. But please get him out of there. We can’t afford to lose either of you._

_-J_

It was surprisingly impersonal considering the contents, but he supposed she was probably busy finding someone ready to run off to the middle of nowhere Russia. And Isaac would have to wait one more day. Easier for him than it would be for Leo. Isaac had an escape plan in place. He would be in the company of Argents soon. Isaac could _leave_. That realization felt terrifyingly tempting. In all this misery, here he was with a safe way out, and how could he bring himself not to take it? Jeanie and Romy had offered him the chance to not go back when he had been with the Solovyovas and he was confident they would gladly support him if he decided to flee tomorrow night. It still felt like running away. 

Isaac still hadn’t made up his mind the next morning, but Jeanie seemed set on making up his mind for him. 

_You are leaving with Leo. Get your stuff together, but DO NOT pack a bag. Only what you can carry inconspicuously. If they’re getting even remotely suspicious you’ve got to get out of there. See you soon. Expect radio silence from our end until tonight. Stay safe._

Isaac wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew it was the smart thing to do, the safe thing, but he also knew his usefulness would wane quite swiftly once he was out of here. A different concern was coming to him now as well: what would he say to Sasha? 

Isaac was not stupid enough to think he could give Sasha a proper goodbye, but it also felt cruel to just disappear into the woods without a word and not come back. Sasha was already up. Their room was empty and remained that way while Isaac got dressed, still mulling it over. He went to his bag. Isaac was still wearing the silver claw around his neck, but there were other precious things; Cam’s lighter, the bag of wolfsbane powder from Dr. Bhatt. Isaac didn’t have photos of Scott or Melissa there with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen their faces, a picture or otherwise. He had been too afraid of losing them and his phone had next to no personal affects on them because of what might slip through the cracks that pointed to the Argents. It had been a function of over preparedness, but now it felt a little absurd. No one had searched his room or his phone. No one had questioned his life before now. The only thing that had pointed out there might be a spy was the actual act of spying. 

Isaac put his belongings into his medicine bag so that evening they would be there and ready when he made his journey down to the bunker. At this point there was nothing left to do besides face the waiting game. Isaac held none of the nostalgia or melancholy for leaving this place as he had for the Argents or Beacon Hills. Sure, he didn’t mind venison anymore, and the woods were beautiful in their own enigmatic way, and he had grown incredibly protective of Sasha, but there wasn’t anything to really _miss_ here. There was too much tension, too much walking on eggshells, to feel fond of the compound. Still, even if he didn’t _want_ to stay, it still felt strange. This had become his routine. Not a good one, not a safe one, but it was still his normal. Isaac had grown accustomed to the quiet and the full moons that were like an explosion, foods that tasted just a little too wild, the stars which had been utterly absent in the light pollution of Paris. 

Maybe he just didn’t know how to feel. Isaac couldn’t even conceptualize going back to Paris like nothing had changed. He _had_ changed, even if it was only in an unproductive way. Maybe he hadn’t changed, maybe he was the same and he was just worn down from all this bad trying to make him into someone else. 

Isaac still hadn’t looked at the color of his eyes. 

Ever since he had given that first man a way out, he had refused to look at his eyes. Even on the full moon, even when it got so tempting just to check, he hadn’t let himself look. Isaac had no idea what he would find if he did. He wasn’t _murdering_ anyone, but sometimes he wasn’t so sure. Isaac was _responsible_ for those deaths, it was their decision, but he was the one who gave them the means. He was the one who wrote to their families. He was the one who cleaned up the bodies. He was the last face they saw and the last person to tell them things would be okay. 

There was a time when Isaac was convinced no one in the world could understand who he was or what he had been through and he had used this as a way to reject every kindness offered to him with a coldness that matched an anger that was too familiar. He had outgrown that. Scott had taught him that there was a difference between knowing and understanding. Scott could never _know_ what growing up was like for Isaac, but he sure as hell did his best to understand. 

Isaac wasn’t the same boy who had rushed into anger, who had done his best to terrify his classmates, who had tried to kill Lydia, who had decided to reject Beacon Hills with a vengeance because they had left him for dead first. But Isaac also thought that whoever he was now was beyond understanding, even to him. These past few months had been one hard choice after another and he couldn’t imagine explaining those choices to anyone, because how could anyone understand? How could Scott ever understand that Isaac had both aided suicides and cured injuries, despite knowing one would lead to death and the other would lead to pain? How could Scott understand that Isaac had seen no other option? 

This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to Scott. Isaac’s mind wandered back to Scott for approval and love far too often considering they hadn’t seen each other in years. Isaac also knew that the way he clung to any good relationship like it was the only good thing he would ever have was a product of that feeling like the truth for a long time. Scott wouldn’t _want_ to be put on a pedestal the way Isaac was doing, and that was part of why Isaac found it so easy to place him there. 

Isaac was simultaneously desperate to go home and not at all prepared to do so. There was a time when the world had felt so simple. No matter how bad things got after he was bitten, he had been so certain he could get through it because it was better than his past. And when even that failed, he thought he could manage because there were people who loved him. It felt so naïve now, to think that because his head was finally on straight the rest of the world wouldn’t be able to damage him. It didn’t matter anymore. He was going back to Paris and he would be with his friends. Isaac wasn’t out of the woods yet. Paris wouldn’t feel real until he was actually there, and he was starting to think the full gravity of what he had gone through here wouldn’t feel real until then either. 

Isaac moved through the day in a haze, time slipping by without him noticing and other times it dragging on so slowly it was like the universe was trying to torture him. The only moment of clarity came to him without any pleasantness. 

“Did you hear what’s happening?” Sasha seemed both excited and nervous. 

Isaac set aside the towel he was using to dry dishes, looking at the shorter boy with raised eyebrows, “maybe you should be more specific.” 

“Aloysha is coming _here,_” Sasha explained. “I mean _the_ Aloysha- he’s- he’s a _legend_.” Sasha sounded more than a little starstruck. 

This news had the opposite effect on Isaac. He had almost forgotten that there were greater powers outside of this camp. Nikita was a cunning enough leader, but he was not _the_ leader. Aloysha was the real prize. A dangerous enigma, travelling from one warzone to the next, inspiring his fellow werewolves and terrifying the few hunters who managed to survive his presence. 

“I _know_,” Sasha mistook Isaac’s stunned expression for awe. “I never thought in a million years I would actually get to meet him! I know he’ll be busy with actual planning with the fighters, but in a few days he’ll be eating at the same table as us, he’ll be sleeping under the same roof- I just can’t _believe_ it-” So long ago Isaac had considered killing Nikita when the man was sick and at his mercy, but had decided against it not only out of pity but out of the realization that Nikita was simply one piece on a much bigger chessboard. But _Aloysha?_ He was the real cult leader, he was the head of the snake, he was the full on motherfucker. He was what Isaac had been waiting for. 

So how could Isaac bring himself to leave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh things are picking up! Sorry to leave you with the cliffhanger, but hopefully I'll have another update soon.
> 
> Some of Isaac's inner turmoil was inspired by [this](https://drinkingdeadpeopletea.tumblr.com/post/612258898475417600/god-i-will-never-not-be-losing-my-mind-over) post so thought I should give credit.
> 
> Hope you guys like where this is heading, I know it's grim right now, but after all of this there is no way in hell I'm going to write a sad ending. Although there's still more to go before we get there!
> 
> As always, stay safe guys.


	12. Chapter 12

Isaac was well enough prepared. He had his valuables on him and had written a hasty and awkward goodbye to Sasha. He knew once they realized he was missing eventually someone would search his bag. He didn’t confess to anything in the letter, of course, merely apologized and told him to take care of himself. He also left the email address he had used to send information to the Argents. Just in case Sasha eventually realized he needed to get the hell out of there.

Isaac wore his favorite clothes -scarf, cardigan, a black jacket- knowing he would have to abandon the rest, and, after a moment’s hesitation, put a second pair of shoes, socks, pants, and a coat. Leo’s clothes were torn to shreds and he was barefoot. Isaac had no intention of trying to rescue Leo only to have him freeze to death in his underwear- not exactly a dignified end for a friend. 

Isaac could only hope that his anticipation wasn’t written on his face. It was damn near impossible to focus on anything, the day dragging on as he thought of getting back to Paris while also moving too fast with the impending risk of actually doing so. Isaac still had no idea what to do about Alyosha. The man wouldn’t even arrive until after they were gone. What, would he just tell the Argents and have them invade the camp? That was a terrible thought as well. He didn’t want Sasha to die in the crossfire. There were _kids_ living here, even if their parents were on the wrong side of things. Even that… most of the people at this particular camp were just afraid. They had fled looking for somewhere safe. They didn’t deserve to have that taken away. Isaac had been thinking about the wolfsbane powder he had kept hidden all these months. If he stayed, how hard would it be to slip a little poison into Alyosha’s drink? Isaac and Sasha had taken over most of the work in the kitchens, it wasn’t exactly an irrational plan… 

It could also very well be a suicide mission. This kind of assassination attempt took a lot more planning than he could manage in two days, not counting a dozen other logistical issues. He knew nothing about this man in actuality. What if he ended up poisoning some innocent family member instead? Isaac knew the smart thing was to just leave and while he hated to admit it, it was what he truly wanted to do. He just had to make it to the road. Then there would be Argents to help get them home. Isaac had stumbled that same distance alone with a bullet in his leg, carrying Leo that far wouldn’t be a problem. He mostly just hoped they didn’t accidentally shoot him. Despite the majority of the Argents having accepted him, being alone in the woods in a dangerous pack’s territory would definitely make them jumpy. Preferably not jumpy enough to shoot first and ask questions later. 

Isaac knew he was just overthinking things, but it was easier to contemplate what would happen once he was out of the woods than all the potential for things to go wrong before that. Sasha seemed to sense a change in him, but Isaac couldn’t help but pull away, knowing what was coming. 

“You okay?” Sasha shook him out of his brooding. 

“What? I’m fine,” Isaac dismissed him. He knew he was coming across as standoffish, even angry, but that still felt better than pretending everything was fine. 

“Isaak, has something happened?” Sasha seemed genuinely worried despite Isaac’s harshness. “Did Nikita talk to you again?” He said this a little more quietly, despite them being alone in the kitchen. Isaac had done very little to help with cooking today, but Sasha hadn’t pushed him, sensing he had more important things on his mind. 

“No. I’m fine,” Isaac finally looked at him. 

It felt like he had been staring at the floor all day. Sasha’s expression did nothing to calm Isaac’s guilt. Isaac found himself searching Sasha’s face for some clue that this wasn’t a dark ending, as if by memorizing the freckles barely visible on already pale cheeks, mapping out how little space he took up, and how sharp those spaces were, those sallow cheekbones and grey eyes that only added to the feeling that Sasha was becoming a ghost to him. He didn’t know if he wanted to tell Sasha the truth about why he was there or just wanted to know Sasha would be okay here alone. Neither option felt realistic to him. Isaac needed to acknowledge the fact that after this he would likely never see Sasha again, and despite all their differences, they had been foxhole buddies in this strange and hostile place. Isaac had wanted Sasha to be safe long before he had pushed him away and told him to run when the hunters were closing in. Isaac wanted to tell Sasha to run again, but he knew that wouldn’t do anything right now besides cause more harm. 

“I mean it, Sasha. I’m okay,” Isaac hoped that Sasha could hear all of those thoughts and hopes in his tone since words were impossible. “Are _you_ okay?” 

“Maybe,” Sasha was teasing in a way that was meant to balance out the concern that wouldn’t go away. “I think I’d be more okay if you were honest with me.” 

Isaac couldn’t define the specific sort of sadness which grew from this. Even if Isaac didn’t think that being honest would get him killed, he thought surely it would be easier to just slip away, let Sasha hate him for leaving instead of hating him for being a traitor. Isaac just wanted to tell him _when all this is over, come to Paris. We’ll get coffee and I’ll tell you everything,_ but if he did he might as well explain everything now, and if he explained now he wasn’t getting out of there alive. 

“We should… we should finish this. It’s getting late,” Isaac didn’t respond directly. He just had to get through this. And then get through one more dinner in the company of these people. 

Sitting at that table, shoulder to shoulder with Sasha and a stranger, and it felt like he had already left them and this part was a memory. Tanya and Lev had returned from the bunker together just before dinner and now were chatting jovially as if they hadn’t just participated in terrible acts of violence. Isaac would definitely have his work cut out for him if the blood on both of their hands said anything. He could only hope Leo had survived one more day, if not Isaac almost didn’t see the point in trying to leave. 

Isaac kept on looking to Nikita at the head of the table, speaking quietly with Lev and Tanya as they did almost every night. Isaac would never have to eavesdrop on the them again. He looked at the rest of the pack gathered around this overcrowded table. He couldn’t even name most of them. Despite his relationship with Sasha, he had done very well in remaining distant and unattached from the people here. 

“Don’t tell me- you’re not hungry?” Sasha was sarcastic as Isaac hadn’t moved and had been staring off into space. 

“I’m fine. I mean it. Just- thinking I might head out to the bunker early. I’ll get done faster that way,” Isaac stood to leave despite the glances it drew from Nikita. Sasha started to get up. 

“Do you want me to come with you? I could help,” Sasha must be really worried about him, he had been set on avoiding that place up until now. 

“No,” Isaac said it a little too sharply. He calmed. “No, Sasha. I just want to get it out of the way.” The words _I’ll see you later_ got caught in his throat. He couldn’t lie to him. Not in the end of all this. “Just- take care of yourself for now. I’ll be okay.” 

Those were parting words Isaac could live with. That didn’t change the strangeness of walking out of that house for the last time, everything he needed in his medicine bag. Isaac would have to spend a couple hours in the bunker anyways, Jeanie had told him to aim for midnight, and leaving the bunker around 11 was more typical of him anyways. 

Isaac went to check on Leo first, as per usual. Leo was passed out, and while Isaac was glad he was distracted from the pain at present, he would need to be ready to move in a few hours. Isaac had to admit, he looked _bad_. Not so bad that Isaac was worried he wouldn’t survive the journey, but not far off. He was sweaty and cold, and his face was badly bruised. He had dried blood caked around his chin not only from his nose, which Isaac suspected was broken, but also from two symmetrical cuts on either cheek. Leo’s shirt was hardly a shirt anymore, so it was easy for Isaac to see the sporadic slashes across his chest had scabbed somewhat, but they had been covered instead by _holes_ which for the life of him Isaac couldn’t figure out what could have caused them. That is, until he noticed they were usually in a semicircle of five. Someone had dug their claws into his chest. There were bruises on Leo’s neck which left Isaac especially nauseous considering how familiar they were. He was getting him out of there. He just had to focus on that. 

Leo came to while Isaac was washing the blood from his chest. Isaac hated the way his friend flinched away. 

Leo relaxed, well, more like collapsed, when he recognized Isaac. “It’s just you,” he mumbled, eyes closed. Isaac didn’t want to think on what could draw up that kind of relief. Isaac knew better than most that after all this it was going to take time for Leo to recover from the psychological toll. Leo’s calm faded as he winced, exhaling sharply as Isaac did his best to be gentle tending to the tattered skin on his chest. “That bitch loves scaring me, maybe even more than her friend likes drawing blood,” he was so hoarse. Isaac paused to get him water. 

“Who..?” Isaac knew exactly who, but the facts were somehow hard for him to link together. “So, the woman- what’d you mean she loves ‘scaring you’? Isn’t that all they do?” 

“It’s different, you see,” Leo sat up best he could and continued far too conversationally. “The man that’s usually here- he just wants to act. He’s aggressive, sort of… I guess acts like it’s a one-sided fight? Tears at you to prove he can. _She_ is more patient. She stops and… _talks_, and then she starts _touching_ me and then she starts _digging in_,” Leo shuddered. “And she’s so slow about it. Just piercing the skin it feels like it takes forever and then she starts pressing in deeper and the waiting game of wondering how much deeper she’ll go is so much worse than just cutting in.” 

Isaac ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as a strange sickness spread through him. Tanya and Lev. They were the same people Isaac had just had _dinner_ with but it felt worlds away. The same claws that had dug into Leo’s chest had dug a bullet out of his. And the way he described it… the touching, the talking-how _personal_ it got with her, somehow Isaac was reminded of Kate and what she did to Derek. He would be lying if he said Derek had actually talked about it with him, or likely anyone, but he knew enough to be horrified. 

“I’m getting you out of here. We’re almost there, okay? A few more hours and we’ll get you some decent help,” Isaac couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“Aw, well, I think you make a pretty good doctor, Isaac,” Leo’s playfulness was incomprehensible to Isaac. How did he have the energy to do anything but breathe? 

“I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I’m just gonna check on the other people here,” Isaac stood. 

“Wait-” Leo stopped him. “Other- You mean there are other people trapped here right now?” 

Isaac nodded slowly, knowing exactly where Leo was headed. 

“If you can get me out, why can’t you help them get out too?” Leo was selfless to a fault and Isaac selfish in the exact same way. 

“I can’t,” Isaac hated himself for it, but he had to be logical. “I can’t smuggle out four people in a wheelbarrow who’re supposed to be dead- I just can’t. If you weren’t here, maybe I’d risk it- But I _can’t_ risk your freedom, okay? Every person we’d add is one more thing to cause suspicion, one more heartbeat someone could hear. I am not putting the only chance of getting you out of here on the line for- for-” Isaac didn’t know what to say. _For a stranger. For people who still want me dead. For people who are worth less than you._ Isaac knew despite his thought that he was being logical that this decision came purely from heart. Isaac would not let Leo suffer any more, even if it meant leaving the others to die. It was the very reason he hadn’t told Sasha the truth, not for his own sake, but because he _needed_ to get Leo out. Another thing Isaac was capable of that he knew Scott would never do. Another thing for Isaac to hate himself for. 

“Isaac- please, this isn’t fair-” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Isaac snapped. “I’m the one who’s been helping them kill themselves- if I was being _fair_ I’d be doing the same for you and that’s not fucking happening, Leo.” 

“I am not leaving with you without the others. We can’t pick and choose who gets out,” Leo was kind to a fault. After so many years of being a pushover, Leo had chosen the worse time to become utterly obstinate. “Okay? I don’t care- if you’re willing to take this risk for me, we’ll figure out a way to do it for the rest of them too.” 

Isaac could only harden his resolve, “you’re my friend,” Isaac didn’t sound like himself, something so cold and unwavering in his quiet tone, something he couldn’t recognize. “But you don’t get a say in this. If I have to knock you out to get you out of here don’t think I won’t.” 

Leo’s mouth hung open, him staring up at someone he trusted with the terrible realization that despite that trust he was at Isaac’s mercy just as much as he was at the mercy of his torturers. Isaac could reconcile with that once they were safe, but he knew that if this continued as planned Leo would never trust him like that again. Leo looked away, that betrayal not fading. 

“You’ve changed, more than I thought,” Leo stared at the bandages around his chest with something like disgust now. “Go on, then.” Isaac didn’t move. Leo pushed further, dug deeper. “See if you can kill a few more people before we run away.” 

“How could I explain to your family that you died here because getting you out wouldn’t be _fair?_” It was a low blow, but Isaac couldn’t stop that ounce of cruelty from slipping out any more than he could stop the far greater cruelty to come of abandoning these people to die. 

Leo had gone silent. Isaac knelt down beside him, reaching out to take away his pain, it was all he could think to do. 

“Don’t touch me,” Leo snapped, for once something truly defensive in his tone. Leo had always resisted Isaac taking his pain out of concern for him, but now it was such a desperate defense, a desperate bid to control just one thing which Isaac understood too well. Isaac wanted to help him so badly but the thought of defying the one thing Leo could choose to consent to in all of this made his stomach turn. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Isaac said it like an apology despite knowing there was no way to apologize for this. All he could do was try and get his friend out of here alive. 

Why did that not feel like enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short and not much is happening but I liked this chunk as its own thing, even if it prolongs the suspense for you guys! Hope it's worth it :)


	13. Chapter 13

Isaac did the best he could for the other people trapped in the bunker. There were three other people chained up in the dark, people who had spat in Isaac’s face, who had told him they would kill him given the chance, who had done their very best to hurt him despite their circumstances. Despite all this, Isaac tended to their injuries and then did something incredibly stupid.

“What the hell are you doing?” The first didn’t try and fight him when he took the chains off her wrists. “If you’re gonna kill me just be quick about it,” she muttered, seeming far too relaxed considering the topic. 

“I am not going to kill you,” Isaac sighed. “I am…” No turning back now. “Okay. When I go, I am going to leave the door unlocked. You’re going to wait about an hour before getting up. Go down the hall uphill, that door will be unlocked too. If you want to get out of here alive you’re not going to make any noise, the lights will be off so no one will see the door open. Once you’re outside you are going to go behind the bunker and a little ways down that trail. Once you do, stand facing away from the bunker, turn about 45 degrees to the right, and run like hell. You should get to a road in about a half an hour if you’re fast. Do you understand?” 

“What- Why-” The woman stared at him like he’d just grown another head. 

“Do you want to stay here?” Isaac said a little harshly. She shook her head. “Okay then. You’re going to wait and then you’re going to get out of here. One hour.” Isaac was helping these people, but he was also giving Leo and him one hell of a head start in case someone screwed it up. 

“How- How am I supposed to know when it’d been an hour-” 

“Count,” he said shortly, and with that, Isaac shut the door behind him and moved on to the next one. 

The next one was far less successful. Isaac realized he probably shouldn’t have untied him before he had explained actually what he was doing. Isaac was on the ground with a chain wrapped around his neck in an instant. Isaac kicked the guy off of him and slammed him into the back wall in an instant more. 

“Fucking relax! Jesus- I am trying to _help_ you!” Isaac gasped from the ground, growing more and more irritated with this whole plan. “If you don’t want to get out of here try and hit me again. I fucking dare you.” 

The man at least stopped trying to throttle him, but other than that he seemed no less hostile. Isaac repeated his instructions from before, tacking on another half hour to his wait time. 

“How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?!” 

“How do- What would the _point_ of that be?” Isaac scoffed. “Look, you either follow my instructions, or you die here. Up to you.” Isaac stared pointedly at him and when he didn’t try and hit him again he decided his work here was done and left the man to sort out his priorities. 

Isaac learned from his mistakes and made sure to explain what he was planning on doing before untying the last victim, telling him to leave in an hour. Now he could return to his actual goal. 

“Leo?” Isaac reentered his cell. “I gave them a chance to run for it, I know it isn’t what you wanted but this way I’m still gonna get you out first.” 

“What’d you do?” Leo struggled to get to his feet. 

“I untied them and I’m gonna leave the doors unlocked, but I am getting you out of here first, I told them to wait,” Isaac explained, quick to grab Leo’s arm to stop him from collapsing. 

“I haven’t walked in like a week... dunno how I’m getting out of here…” Leo muttered. “How’re we gonna run?” 

“I’ll carry you,” Isaac said firmly. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Focus on staying still. This next part is gonna suck, but you’ve got to stay limp and try not to breathe too heavy. It’ll be really cold, but once we get somewhere safe you can put on some proper clothes.” 

“Got it,” Leo said grimly. “I can walk myself to the door.” 

Isaac let go of his arm, but hovered incessantly in case he started to fall again. At the door they both stopped, staring at the metal between them and real danger. This was where caution really mattered, a hundred yards of danger before they were out of sight. Isaac’s ruse only worked if everyone kept their distance, one step too close and they would hear a heartbeat where there wasn’t supposed to be one. No one had wanted to go near him when he took out the dead before, but knowing his luck he would open the door and find a whole pack waiting on the other side. 

“Wait here,” Isaac was already whispering out of just anxiety. He slipped out into the dark. As far as he could tell no one was nearby, there was distant chatter in a neighboring cabin, but none close enough to hear his racing heart. Isaac could manage to carry Leo, tall as he was, the guy was lanky before he’d been half starved. Regardless, Isaac knew with a normal dead body - because for him there was such a thing - he would toss it in the wheelbarrow. 

“Come on,” Isaac picked Leo up as delicately as he could, his friend going limp in his arms. Isaac knew he couldn’t be gentle, but he didn’t feel any better about dropping him carelessly into the bed, the metal was sure to leave bruising. Isaac had no idea if anyone still outside - he could still hear voices somewhere - and found himself hyper aware of every sound around him, particularly how loud Leo’s heartbeat was. Still, Isaac walked up the path as he had far too many times without interruption. Isaac was wondering if he could have just walked Leo out of there without all the caution, not that he would have ever risked it. 

Leo didn’t move as Isaac hadn’t given him the all clear, but Isaac could see a shift in expression as the scent of rotting bodies reached him. Isaac stopped a little ways back. 

“You’re good, let’s keep moving,” Isaac helped him to his feet, pulling clothes out of his bag. 

Leo ignored him, stumbling forward towards the pit, gagging against his own volition just as Isaac had when he had first gone near it. Isaac hated how numb he had gotten to it. Well, as numb as he could be when he could remember the faces of those decaying only a few yards away. 

“Don’t,” Isaac reached out to stop him as he got too close to the edge. 

“Why?” Leo’s voice shook and he finally looked afraid. Looking back towards that terrible smell with a morbid sort of curiosity mixed with that primal terror that only comes from the scent of over a dozen old corpses. 

“Trust me,” Isaac shook his head, staring at Leo carefully to make sure he understood that, “you don’t want to see it.” 

Leo stared for a moment more, the edge of the drop off barely visible in the moonlight. “Okay,” Leo stopped, returning slowly to Isaac’s side with a limp, one hand still holding onto what was most certainly broken ribs. 

“I’ve got you clothes, a coat, all that. Do you… do you want help?” Isaac hesitated. 

Leo bit his lip, seeming bitterly resigned. “I can barely move.” 

“Let me help you,” Isaac was as gentle as he could be, despite understanding all too well the resentment that came with pity. Isaac held him steady, helping him put on his coat and a pair of boots much too large. “You ready to go?” 

“Nah, I think I’ve changed my mind, let’s go back,” Leo deadpanned, something between a smile and a grimace forming as Isaac pulled Leo’s arm around his shoulder. 

Isaac half-dragged Leo through the thick underbrush for a slow ten minutes, during which Leo had been holding back gasps of pain with each step. 

“This is bullshit. You’re in pain, your legs are getting torn up by thorns. I’m a werewolf, so I’m carrying you,” Isaac stopped them. 

“Isaac, you shouldn’t have to-” Leo actually squeaked when Isaac swept him off his feet, holding him bridal style. Isaac found the struggle was not from the weight, but from how tall Leo was. He now pitied anyone who had ever had to carry his wounded body around. 

Regardless, they made far better progress with just Isaac staggering over tree roots. Isaac kept looking ahead, the shadows not so dark for him, careful to keep his course straight. This was far easier than the last time he had stumbled through these woods. Almost out of habit, Isaac found himself taking Leo’s pain, draining away the broken ribs and the cuts on his face and the scrapes now covering his legs. He couldn’t help it, it just came naturally to him now. For once Leo didn’t yell at him for it, instead he leaned closer against Isaac’s chest, Isaac could feel him take a deep breath, his eyes closing, relaxing for the first time in weeks. 

They weren’t out of the woods yet, literally or figuratively, so Isaac pressed on, that pain now fueling him to keep moving so they could get Leo some actual medical help. Isaac had lost track of time but he saw pale moonlight cutting through a gap in the trees and he could only hope it was the road and that the Argents would be nearby. Isaac moved faster, waking Leo, but still holding him as gently as he could manage. 

Bright headlights blinded him as he stumbled closer to the treeline. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” French. Someone was speaking _French_ to him, and not just anyone. 

“Jeanie!” Isaac helped Leo stand as his old friend ran to meet them. 

“You made it!” Jeanie threw her arms around her cousin and proceeded to hold Isaac just as tightly. “You got him out,” she sighed and Isaac could almost feel the weight leave her shoulders. 

“Jeanie, can you help me keep steady? I think Isaac might need a second,” Leo sounded oddly amused as Jeanie took over for Isaac, keeping him upright. 

“What’re you-” Isaac was silenced by a short figure launching onto him, sending him stumbling back. 

“American!” Romy was clinging to him like a tree, her feet no longer touching the ground. 

Isaac laughed, hugging her back and refusing to let go, just breathing in the scent of Romy’s shampoo and gunpowder and Paris and _home_. “I missed you too, dumbass.” 

Romy finally pulled away. “You’re not dead!” 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Isaac scoffed. His friend was still very much the same, half his height, twice as burly, a grin that said mischief as much as it said joy. Her hair was shorter, the sides buzzed as usual, but the top was cropped instead of long. She was dressed far too punk rock for hiking out into the Russian wilderness but he expected nothing less of her. Another particular change was a scar, or rather three, going from the bottom of her cheek across her jaw on the right side. Claw marks. Isaac nodded to it, “I could say the same about you. Looks like you’ve been busy.” 

“Psh,” Romy waved him off. “Not as busy as this idiot,” she hugged Leo as well. 

“This isn’t _my_ fault!” Leo seemed offended. “I was _abducted._” 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve run faster,” Romy shrugged, but Isaac could tell from how gently she now held onto Leo’s shoulder that she had been scared out of her mind. She turned back to Isaac, “what about you? Jeanie seems to think you should probably see your therapist again.” 

“Romy,” Jeanie slapped her cousin’s arm. “...But yes, I think you should.” 

“Fine. When all this has settled down, sure,” Isaac had missed the two of them, their bickering and their mutual concern for his wellbeing, even if it had gotten on his nerves at times. 

“No, but really, you doing okay, American?” Romy asked, she glanced down before back up to him with more than a little concern. “There’s, um, there’s _blood_ on your shoes.” 

“What?” Isaac looked down, the soles of his boots were stained dark, even the laces which had once been white were now a dull red. “Oh,” Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. “They’ve been like that a lot lately,” his eyes remained fixed on the ground. “Occupational hazard, I guess.” 

A painful silence as Isaac’s words did nothing to calm the Argents. 

“Well!” Romy, of course, broke that silence. “Leo, let’s get you in the van before you pass out on us,” Romy half carried her cousin to their car. “They’ve probably got important spy stuff to talk about without us.” 

“Actually- Jeanie, I do have more important stuff to tell you-” 

“Really, Isaac, you’re still smuggling out information to me?” Jeanie teased. 

“Well, I’m here, so I wouldn’t call it smuggling,” despite the darkness which hadn’t left their conversation, he was unbelievably content. He couldn’t get himself to focus on the work that still had to be done when he was _here_. Jeanie was in front of him and Leo was safe and he could hear Romy chatting away like no time had passed. Still, there would be time to catch up on the trip home. _Home._ “Alyosha is coming here.” 

“Al-” Jeanie stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly. “_The_ Alyosha? The bastard who has been giving me a constant headache for the past six months, he’s back there?” 

“Unless there’s another one I need to be worrying about, yes it’s him, and not yet. He’s supposed to be there in a few days,” Isaac felt so much calmer. Just like all the information he had sent back to Jeanie these past months, once it was in her hands it wasn’t his problem anymore. 

“How-” Jeanie closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply. “How long is he staying there? He- He _never_ stays in the safehouses. He’s always in the field or staying with his fighters- why is he coming _here?_” 

“Don’t know for sure, but once he gets here I’m guessing he won’t stick around for more than a few days,” Isaac explained. 

“Wait a fucking minute-” Romy hopped out of the van and was back beside them in an instant. “Am I hearing things or-” 

“Nope. The big bad is almost in town,” Isaac now had the luxury of being able to feel smug. He wasn’t betraying anyone here, he was only helping. 

“Shit,” Romy let out a low whistle. “Good thing you got out of there, you’re definitely his type.” 

“I mean, I’m glad either way,” Isaac shrugged before his mind caught up, that endeared smile he had worn since reuniting fell and was replaced by a furrowed brow. “Wait- What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“That guy isn’t just werewolf Hitler, or werewolf Stalin, I guess- he’s a fucking creep. Has a thing for pretty boys with yellow eyes,” Romy stood on her tiptoes to pinch his cheek. 

Isaac stared from Jeanie to Romy. “Does someone want to maybe explain that a little more?” 

“Yeah, yeah, fine- we’ll explain on the drive,” Romy nodded back to the car. 

“I think I need you to explain now,” Isaac didn’t move. 

Romy looked to Jeanie, seeming at a loss for what to do now. 

“Isaac, we’ve heard a lot of horror stories,” Jeanie spoke slowly, carefully. 

“Okay, then tell me one,” Isaac didn’t know why he was suddenly acting so harsh. Or why he was growing more afraid. 

“Look, this guy has some fucked up beliefs about eye color. His whole deal is blue eyes means fighters and heroes, people worth respecting. And yellow eyes means weak and replaceable and pathetic. Yellow eyes are for kids and they’re meant to be outgrown,” Romy explained, continually looking to Jeanie for backup. 

“Outgrown?” Isaac’s worry was turning into something more like panic. “Does he- Does he hurt kids?” 

“No, no one’s told us anything like that,” Jeanie said quickly. 

“I don’t think what he does is much better,” Romy muttered, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Hold on-” Isaac paused, “how the hell to you guys know about this anyway?” 

“We’ve got our own POWs back in Paris. They’re happy to talk,” Romy said and that did nothing to calm him. 

“I’m sorry,” Isaac grew sarcastic to mask his horror, “you mean to tell me you’ve been doing the same bullshit I’ve been trying to get through here? Why the hell am I helping you then?!” 

“No, Isaac, you misunderstand,” Jeanie gave Romy a dirty look, “Romy should’ve explained it better- we don’t actively try and abduct people, not like the Volos or even the Solovyovas do. Sure, sometimes we end up with bad guys on our grounds, but we would _never_ torture someone. Maybe our family would have twenty years ago, but certainly not now. I don’t know what the people back there have told you, but the Volos are losing. And a lot of that is thanks to you.” 

“Can you get to the point, Jeanie?” 

“Most of our people aren’t really prisoners, they’re deserters,” Romy joined in. “Your friend Bhatt has actually been a huge help relocating them after we get intel. They turn up, we protect them if they tell us everything they know.” 

“We’ve seen at least six or seven guys in their late teens, early 20s, turning up out of the blue saying they couldn’t take it anymore and Alyosha was going to kill them,” Jeanie took over from there. “They all tell the same story. None of them had a pack and they all wanted to fight to help the cause. They worshipped Alyosha like everybody else, until they actually met the guy. Once he found out they had someone with yellow eyes with them, he would be critical of whoever was in charge of them, because apparently they’re letting kids play soldiers without getting their hands dirty. These kids didn’t have a pack to protect them, they were all vulnerable and Alyosha made them even more isolated. Textbook gaslighting ending with Alyosha starting to get _way_ too close, and the ones that got out only knew to run because they just happened to hear about another one of Alyosha’s special apprentices turning up dead.” 

“Like _bad_ dead,” Romy added, pausing with a strange bitterness taking over, her stepping from one foot to the other, staring at the blood on Isaac’s shoes. She started talking faster, seeming unable to stop, “like what that alpha did to my dad kind of bad. Their bodies were torn to shreds and people were talking about _other_ things happening to them before they died and no one was going to point a finger at Alyosha, so these kids ran for it and ended up _choosing_ to come to us- now _that’s_ desperation.” 

“They- They sought you out? The Argents, biggest hunting family in western Europe- They came to find _you?_” Isaac didn’t want to focus on the specifics of what Romy had just told him and what it would mean just yet, so he pushed on. 

“It seems like rumors have been spreading around that the Argents have contact with emissaries,” Romy grinned, it seeming only half forced, “that they might have even helped a werewolf a while back.” 

“But it’s just rumors to them now,” Jeanie explained, “and I think it’s just because our camps were the only other ones they knew about besides the Solovyovas, who they knew would kill them on sight at best.” 

“We’ve been trying to help them, American,” Romy tried to calm him. “And I’m sure once you get back, they’ll want to talk to you. I know Dr. Bhatt has missed you.” 

Isaac didn’t respond. The three of them were frozen in the silence. Isaac had known how this conversation would end even before they had explained everything. It must’ve shown on his face because Romy kept going with more urgency now. 

“If you want to know more, they can tell you once we’re home,” Romy held onto his arm, starting to tug him back towards the van. Isaac didn’t move. He looked to Jeanie with some sort of pleading, she stared back at a loss for answers. He didn’t know how he was going to do this. “Come on, American,” Romy’s voice was starting to shake. “Come _on_,” she was holding onto him so tightly now that if Isaac had been human it would have hurt. “Please just come back to the car, we’ll figure this out, we’ll regroup and sort it out back home.” Isaac finally looked back to her and was consumed by guilt. She looked as desperate as Isaac had felt for weeks. “_Please._” 

“I can’t,” Isaac spoke so softly, but that didn’t change the meaning of what he had said. “I need to go back. My friend- they’ll kill him-” 

“They’ll kill _you,_” Romy was actually crying now, something Isaac never thought he would see. “You know they will. You can’t just go back-” 

“I’m sorry but I can’t leave him to get hurt knowing what I do,” Isaac knew how worthless that was. _I’m sorry._ What the hell did that mean in the face what he was going to do? “He is going to get hurt. And he has no one- I need to get him out of there.” 

“No,” Romy was still resolute. She turned back to her cousin. “Tell him, Jean. Tell him he can’t go back- we won’t let him!” 

Jeanie stared at him, searching for some sign that this could be stopped. Her and Isaac both knew Isaac would not be swayed. “What can we do?” Jeanie said it not meaning ‘how can we make you leave’ but rather ‘how can we help you survive this.’ 

“Get Leo help,” Isaac nodded back to the van where his friend had surely passed out by now. “A few Russian hunters might come stumbling out of the woods in a little while. Help them too. And if you can, come back and wait. Just give me a few days at most and I’ll be back.” He looked back to Romy who was still holding onto his hand like a lifeline. “I’m coming back.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Romy snapped. Isaac knew her anger was just to hide her fear, the grief that was growing now despite Isaac still here and alive. 

“I love you,” Isaac had to say it, maybe because now he could see the danger plainly. “I love you all so much and you’re my family. So I am going to do whatever it takes to come back to you.” Isaac pulled her into another hug, Romy despite her apparent resentment responded by holding on just as tightly. 

“I hate you,” Romy muttered into his chest and Isaac knew she was replying with her own ‘I love you.’ 

“We’ll be here, Isaac. And if you don’t come back you better believe we’ll tear that place apart until we find you,” Jeanie contained her feelings far better than Romy. 

Isaac nodded, turning back to the woods in a way that seemed far too casual considering, but Isaac didn’t want to treat this like another goodbye. He couldn’t handle another goodbye. 

Isaac was about to disappear back into the treeline when words he never thought he’d hear hit him like a bullet to the back. Romy, shouting like her life depended on it. “Scott needs you!”


	14. Chapter 14

Isaac was immediately frozen. “What?” Isaac’s voice was soft and already shaking. When was the last time he had heard that name spoken aloud?

“Romy, what the hell are you-” Jeanie tried to speak but Romy kept going like she wasn’t even there. 

“Your friend Scott. He called forever ago looking for you because there’s something going on back in your town. We didn’t tell you because the Sisters wouldn’t let us. They didn’t want to distract you from your mission or have you leave too early, but we wanted to tell you. He needed you. I’m sure he still does, I know Uncle Chris headed his way a while ago, but he also wanted _you_.” 

“How could you keep this from me?!” Isaac was shouting back now, damn the danger, damn the people waiting back at the camp, damn all of the bullshit that had kept Scott from him. 

Jeanie tried to stop him, “It wasn’t our choice, Isaac, you have to understand, Chris agreed-” 

“Fuck Chris- What about _me?_” Isaac was stepping closer now, Romy seeming taken aback by his anger but not at all dissuaded. 

“He needs you, Isaac, so you have to come home,” Romy kept pleading. “You just need to come with us, we can help you.” 

“Fuck you, Romy,” Isaac spat. “Both of you- You had no right to decide this for me.” 

“I know, but please just get in the car, I can make this up to you,” Romy looked like she wanted to reach out and take his arm again but held back in the weight of his anger. 

Isaac stared down at her. Despite Romy’s worry she wasn’t afraid or guilty, just determined to find a way to take him home. To take him back to Scott. 

Isaac sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to ground himself. _WWSMD - What would Scott McCall do? ...Fucking hell._ That mantra felt like a cruel joke to him now, and maybe it had always been a joke to him, but it was still pressing in on him as the only moral compass he could still hold onto. He returned to the present full of resentment but no less determined. “No.” 

Romy still had tears in her eyes alongside her own anger. All that pleading and desperation was swallowed by the fact that Isaac was still going to run off to die. “How can you say that? I thought- I thought you’d-” 

“What?” Isaac was no longer shouting or snapping at her, his voice came with an eerie calm. “You thought that you could use that to get me to leave? You really thought that by bringing up _Scott_ I would take the easy way out? What, you thought I would _run away_ when people out there need my help? You have no fucking idea- I am going back there and I am going to try and protect a friend. _That_ is because of Scott. Not… Not whatever this is. Take care of yourself, Romy.” Isaac turned around, his mind still reeling, but his heart still set. He would go back. And he would survive it all because Scott still needed him. 

“Wait,” Jeanie was the one who made one last attempt. Isaac paused only out of surprise. “You’re gonna go, I know that. Nothing’s gonna stop you, but… you can’t go if you two are still mad at each other. I don’t care who hurt who, who lied about what, or who’s leaving. No one is doing anything until you fix that.” A strange silence. Romy and Isaac both taught to be soldiers just as Jeanie had been taught to be a leader, that structure kept them reluctantly paused. A stalemate. 

Romy spoke first, both of them so stubborn and too emotional, Romy broke that line between them. “I’m sorry. I mean that, American. I am so sorry we kept this from you and I’m sorry I brought it up now but you know I just…” Romy inhaled shakily, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t want you to die.” 

“Funny enough, I don’t want to die either,” Isaac’s hand went to the silver claw hanging around his neck and after a pause, he took it off. “Hey, how about you hold onto this for me? That way I _have_ to come back and get it. And if not…” he had to acknowledge the reality of the situation. “Can you give it to Scott for me? Can you… will you tell him I’m sorry?” 

Romy reluctantly took it from him, putting it around her own neck and holding it close to her chest. She took another deep breath. “I hate that I have to say this, but if you don’t come back, we’ll still help Scott. We’ll do whatever we can to protect him, okay, American?” 

“I am coming back,” Isaac had promised not to lie. He thought he was keeping that promise. “I don’t care if I have to tear apart everything in my way, I will come back, okay? I swear it.” 

Romy nodded, Isaac couldn’t tell if she believed him. “Go on then, hero. Make me proud, do something stupid.” 

Isaac felt the ghost of a smile return to him. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me. See you in a couple days.” And with that, Isaac was walking back through the darkened woods. 

If Isaac had had any intention of going back he wouldn’t have freed those other three hunters. Still, as a matter of personal safety Isaac had always known how to lie well. This didn’t make things any easier. Isaac saw two paths in front of him and a half hour walk to figure out which had the highest probability of survival. 

One: He could lock the bunker up like normal, pretend nothing was wrong, and try to get Sasha to run before the next morning. This way he wouldn’t be questioned at all for the six hour window he had, but it did mean that he had far less time to get Sasha to see sense before he would immediately become suspicious. Not just a little suspicious, but the kind which when paired with their concern over someone leaking information would point directly to him being a traitor. Not ideal. 

Two: He could make up a story about getting attacked by one of the hunters who then freed the others. This would cause immediate suspicion, but nowhere near as much as if he were caught trying to hide the hunters leaving entirely. This meant he had a chance of being safe for a few days, but there was also a far sooner risk of attention being drawn to his odd behavior. It might make it harder to talk to Sasha if Nikita kept a far closer eye on him and considering his latest questions towards Isaac that was quite likely. If his lie wasn’t good enough he might have to run before he could convince Sasha, making all of this pointless. Isaac thought it was a believable story. Isaac was trying to bandage a wound on one of the hunter’s backs and the moment he unchained him the man had choked him out. That wouldn’t even be a lie. The difference was, Isaac had fought the hunter off easily. Not that Nikita would know that. 

The fact of the matter was, Isaac couldn’t risk Nikita keeping a close eye on him when his goal was to convince Sasha that what was happening in this place was dangerous. Isaac also didn’t trust his ability to lie and manipulate. Isaac was often honest to a fault and while he could mask an easy lie with half-truths and sarcasm, flat out telling Sasha he had been attacked followed by telling him that Alyosha was a predator would be difficult to navigate at best. 

Isaac crept into the bunker, locking each of the cell doors before exiting quickly, locking that final door behind him. Hopefully the Volos would just have a typical discussion in their meeting room the next morning and wouldn’t bother to look into the cells until later in the day. And ideally Isaac and Sasha would be gone by then. The house had remained dark and silent and unchanged despite Isaac feeling as if by virtue of leaving everything about this place should have changed. He made his way upstairs, back to the shared room he had had no intention of ever being in again to see someone he had feared he would never see again. 

“Sasha,” Isaac leaned over his friend, gently shaking him awake. 

Sasha still sat up with a start, “Isaak- What- Why are you still up? What’s happening?” He rubbed his eyes blearily, staring at Isaac with bemused worry. 

“It’s important- Sasha, do you trust me?” Isaac spoke softly, knowing his agitation was a dead giveaway that something was really wrong. 

“What’s this about?” Sasha got out of bed and Isaac could hear his heart beat a little faster in his chest. 

“We can’t stay here. I can’t explain properly now, but it’s not safe for you to be here,” Isaac had considered the logistics of getting back into camp without question, less so on how he would explain this to Sasha. 

“What the hell are you talking about? Can’t stay here- What do you mean?” Sasha was struggling to process, not that Isaac blamed him. “Is there going to be another attack? Have you told Nikita yet?” 

“No, it’s not like that, it’s-” Isaac took a deep breath. How the hell was he going to do this? “It’s Alyosha. He’s- He’s not what you think-” 

“Alyosha- This is about _Alyosha?_ He’s not coming until tomorrow, and what do you mean he’s not what I think?” Sasha was finally refusing to follow orders blindly, but on the wrong side of things. 

Isaac grabbed onto Sasha’s hand, tugging him to his feet. “I have heard some really fucked up stories. About what he does to people with yellow eyes and we can’t stay here so, I’m asking you, please, will you leave with me? I already have a way for us to get out of this safe, you’ve just got to trust me.” 

Sasha remained stubborn and adamant, refusing to get up. “Not until you explain. If you’re really this worried, I think we should tell Nikita about this-” 

“_No,_” Isaac knew his harshness likely wasn’t convincing anyone, but he was getting more and more anxious at how precarious his place here was. 

Sasha seemed to think he was having a breakdown. “Isaak, can’t we push this off until tomorrow? If you’re still freaked out, we can talk about it, you can explain-” 

“Oh my god- look, I know you’re tired, I know you’re confused, but there was a time when I told you to run and you listened and that’s why you’re still alive right now. I need you to do that again,” Isaac wasn’t being fair, he was asking so much of Sasha who had so little left to hold onto, but come tomorrow morning someone would discover that four hunters had disappeared over night and Isaac had been the last one to see them. 

Sasha stared at him now, seeming to finally grasp that this was not just a minor burst of anxiety, that Isaac was truly fearing for Sasha’s safety. 

“Okay, Isaak. I trust you, but you _need_ to tell me what you’re talking about if you want me to go with you, okay? And… and you’ve got to tell me where we’re going,” Sasha was trying to calm him and he wasn’t jumping up to leave, but he was listening at least. 

“Okay, fine,” Isaac bit his lip. What reasonable answer could he give to how he knew this stuff? “So, you know how I stayed with some emissaries in Paris before I came here?” Sasha nodded. “They’ve been helping relocate… defectors, who used to serve under Alyosha, who actually met him. And they left because they thought Alyosha was going to kill them.” 

“Okay, so what, a few cowards couldn’t take the risks and left, that doesn’t mean-” 

“Let me explain, okay?” Isaac was being harsh and rushed and not exactly clear, but he couldn’t think of a better way to do this. He wasn’t meant to be charismatic or take charge, that kind of job was meant for people like Scott and the women who led the Argents. “Alyosha preyed on kids with yellow eyes and manipulated them. He isolated them, and he… attacked them.” Isaac was being vague, but Jeanie and Romy hadn’t exactly been explicit as to what kind of abuse Alyosha was inflicting. Isaac knew enough by now to read between the lines, particularly when Romy had compared it to the alpha who had tortured her father. _They did things to his body while he was still alive…_ Those were the words of a kid who had compartmentalized watching her father be tormented in such a vile way, but Isaac knew it had gone beyond physical mutilation, the question was whether or not Sasha needed more answers- answers Isaac wasn’t sure if he was prepared to give. 

“...attacked them?” Sasha asked slowly, pushing onwards exactly in the direction Isaac had wanted to avoid. 

“They idolized him, and he got them alone,” Isaac’s hands twitched at his sides, him starting to pace almost involuntarily. “He… _hurt_ them, and then he would have killed them once he was done using them. That’s why those people ran. They weren’t scared of having to face the hunters, they were scared of _him_. Do you understand me? He targeted boys our age with _yellow eyes_ and then he killed them.” 

Sasha stared at him, eyes wide and somehow even paler than before. “He wouldn’t…” Sasha’s voice had grown hoarse and disbelieving, “he wouldn’t _do_ that, Isaak- You don’t get it- He’s the one _saving_ us-” 

“He’s not saving anyone, Sasha,” Isaac grew sharp, his anger not at his friend but at the ruse that held him so captively fooled. “We’re _losing_\- did you know that? The hunters are gaining and we aren’t safe here anymore. If you won’t leave because of Alyosha- at least leave for that. I’m begging you, man, I was going to leave anyways, but I can’t leave you here. Not with him.” 

Sasha was desperately searching Isaac’s expression for some sign of a lie, some reason for him to ignore all of this and remain in this illusion that felt so much better than the world he had fled. “Why can’t we wait?” Sasha was still looking for a way out. “Why can’t we just see if there’s some sign that that’s true and then run?” 

Isaac was going to have to take a risk. Sasha had pulled away from so much of this fanaticism, but Isaac didn’t know if it was enough. He had to try. “I can’t stay here anymore because tomorrow morning they are going to find out I did something that they won’t be able to forgive.” 

Sasha returned to confusion now, confusion that was turning quickly into fear and - maybe - it was fear of _him_. “What the hell did you do?” 

This was it. Isaac’s last chance to go without a fight, to let Sasha choose a terrible fate. Or to put his life in the hands of a boy who had learned to hate everything Isaac had tried to protect. 

“I let a hunter go.” 

Sasha was on his feet in an instant, backing away from Isaac not out of true fear but rather betrayal. “You- You _what?_ You can’t be serious- Is this a fucking joke?” 

“Please, Sasha, you have to understand- He wasn’t a bad person, I met him in Paris and he doesn’t want to do any harm. He isn’t like the Solovyovas, he wouldn’t kill anyone-” 

“Shut up- Shut up!” Sasha couldn’t stop moving, turning away from him, reeling as Isaac turned around everything he had learned to take comfort in. “Don’t say that to me! You can’t actually believe any of that-” Sasha had fallen over an edge that Isaac didn’t know how to pull him back from, he reached out to him but was afraid that trying to stop him from his frantic pacing would only make his panic worse. 

“I know you can’t understand that, but you can at least understand why I can’t stay here anymore-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Sasha was no longer making an effort to be quiet and Isaac knew the time for him to leave was now, but how could he after causing a friend so much hurt? 

“Sasha-” 

“They _murdered_ my family, Isaak!” Sasha was an explosion, anger Isaac had never imagined him capable of. Sasha shoved Isaac back against the wall. “And you let one of them walk?! You’re a _traitor_\- You’re-” 

“I’m sorry, Sasha, I wish I could explain better, but I am begging you, one last time, please, come with me-” 

“Come _with_ you?!” Sasha laughed a little hysterically now, “you’re insane if you think I’m gonna run off into the woods because you trusted a _hunter_ more than your own kind!” 

“Sasha-” 

“Get out!” Sasha shoved him again, this time towards the door. “Get the hell out now or I’ll go get Nikita I swear I will-” 

Isaac was stunned, not only because this had burned down far worse than he could have imagined, but also because Sasha wasn’t trying to turn him in. Not yet, anyways. He was threatening him, sure, but Sasha was first and foremost telling Isaac to run while he still could. Isaac could cope with the guilt that would come from this later, but right now he needed to get back to the Argents before Sasha’s rage brought the whole house in on them. All of Isaac's careful consideration, his logic and his planning, had been torn down by sheer emotional incompetence. Isaac's ignorant honesty paired with Sasha's own trauma had been a powderkeg that Isaac had been all too eager to light. 

Isaac had no time to think if he wanted to get out of there intact. He had gone numb and before he knew it he was back outside in the cold all but running for the treeline. Isaac made it, too. He was almost out of sight of the main house, past the outlying cabins, when he felt a clawed hand grab onto his arm. Isaac’s first thought was Sasha, but there was no way he had made it out here after him that quickly, and then he thought of Nikita finally finding him out, but when he turned around the glowing blue eyes staring at him were only half familiar. 

“You-” Isaac stammered. It was the werewolf who was always turned, the one who never said a word, but who stayed behind to kill that hunter’s child while Nikita led Isaac away to be lied to. This man didn’t mean anything to Isaac, he was just a particularly frightening face among dozens of killers, but of course he just happened to stop him. This didn’t make any sense. What had gotten him caught? Isaac knew there was no way in hell this man had heard Sasha’s panic from way out here, so there was no reason for him to be suspicious other than Isaac clearly running from something, but surely Isaac could get him to let go of him, just to give him enough time to keep running. “I was just-” 

Isaac didn’t have the chance to finish his lie before this man slammed him against a neighboring tree. His vision was overcome by a shower of sparks at the impact and before he could even try to refocus Isaac’s head was consumed by another burst of pain before the world turned to black around him. Isaac had just enough consciousness left to be hit by the realization that he had just killed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very late and this chapter is far more chaotic than I originally intended but I hope it makes enough sense to keep you all on your toes! The 'final fight' phase of this story is finally in full swing, and I hope whatever comes next holds up :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... this won't have any of the relief you're looking for.

Isaac came to surrounded by the eerily familiar. First he registered the dried blood on the floor, a common sight to him by now, but that paired with the chains around his wrists keeping him pinned to the armrests of the metal chair he was in was a weighty reminder that none of this was typical. Isaac knew his bigger concern should have been the fact that he was most definitely caught, but the first thing he focused on was the fact that he was chained to a _chair_. The hunters never had chairs, they were always chained against the wall.

The cell was about the same other than that. Isaac was alone, the door shutting him out from the rest of the bunker. He shouldn’t be feeling this calm. Isaac should have been terrified. He had spent weeks witnessing the precise aftermath of how brutal these people could be to their captives, but maybe for that same reason Isaac wasn’t afraid of the unknown. Isaac tugged experimentally at the chains. He could likely break out of them as he had far too many times by now, by breaking his thumbs, but if he was going to try and pull something like that he would have to save it for the right moment. If he screwed up, they wouldn’t give him the opportunity to break free again. 

Isaac continued to assess his circumstances. They had taken his jacket and his phone as well as his shoes. His fucking _shoes_\- They always took the shoes of their captives, it was an act of cruelty as much as it was one of function. Nothing told a Russian that they had no chance of running like taking away their shoes. Running through these woods barefoot at night was a death sentence if nothing else and even if that wasn’t true for Isaac who was far less likely to get hypothermia, he saw the message well enough. _There is no way you’re getting out of here._

Of course, in Isaac’s case he knew that it wasn’t the lack of shoes that was the problem, it was the locked door in front of him and the locked door beyond that, and then dozens of werewolves who would gladly tear him apart now waiting outside. It was the fact that no one here cared if he lived or died, the fact that he knew exactly where they were going to toss his body once they were through with him. _There is no way you’re getting out of here._

Isaac hated this part. The waiting game was far worse than actual threats and it had always been that way. Waiting for his father to snap, waiting during the Argent initiation, waiting when the Solovyovas had caught him, nothing made him really feel that helplessness like being left alone with his thoughts for hours, unable to move or even think straight. 

Even worse was how familiar that feeling was. How many more times would he end up right here, waiting for someone else to decide what happened to him next? 

Isaac still flinched when the door finally opened, expecting that feral werewolf who had attacked him, but seeing Nikita didn’t exactly put him at ease. 

“Comfortable, Isaak?” Nikita closed the door behind him, standing close enough that Isaac was wary the man could hit him at any time. A nostalgic sort of fear where he always knew the exact distance between someone’s fists and his face. 

“Not really,” Isaac tugged at the chains around his wrists sarcastically. “I was starting to think your friend had snapped and was gonna turn me over to the hunters.” 

“Boyra?” Nikita actually seemed surprised by Isaac’s quip. “He saw you acting strangely and stopped you. And I can’t really blame him considering the events of late.” 

“Did he now?” Isaac couldn’t stop sassing Nikita even though he knew wounding the pride of a man like this was a risk. It was the only bit of control he had. “Look, are you gonna tell me what all this is about?” 

Nikita tilted his head, staring at Isaac with a calculating eye. “Are you telling me you don’t know?” 

“I know I can be stubborn and I’ve questioned you before, but this seems a little excessive,” Isaac fully intended on playing dumb as long as he could manage. He wasn’t stupid enough to think they would just chalk this up to a big misunderstanding, but it might stave off the torture for a little while longer. 

Nikita shook his head, sighing like a disappointed teacher. If Nikita kept patronizing him, Isaac was going to snap and _really_ get himself hurt. “Isaak, please be rational. If you’re honest this will go over so much easier for you.” 

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m asking- why the hell am I here?” Isaac persisted. Whatever consequences came from lying were going to happen to him anyways, Isaac had always known that. 

Nikita didn’t believe him, that much was clear, but Isaac wasn’t sure how much Nikita thought he was guilty of. “As of late, the hunters have always been one step ahead. They would clear out of camps right before we were set to invade them and whenever we moved they seemed to know exactly where we were headed.” Nikita paused. Isaac said nothing. “We were forced to come to the conclusion that somehow our plans were being sent to the Solovyovas.” Another pause where Isaac made no effort to respond. “Of course, I’m sure you already knew that.” 

“Why would I know that?” 

“I am trying to give you a chance here, Isaak. I never want to hurt one of our kind, but if you are trying to push me there, you’re doing a fantastic job,” Nikita was losing some of that worried-father charm as Isaac didn’t cave to his will immediately. 

“What exactly is it you want from me?” Isaac asked. “If you have a question, I’ll see if I can answer it.” 

It was Nikita’s turn to leave him with weighted silence. Isaac stared back at him, unblinking and unwavering. He eventually continued, “four hunters have disappeared from this bunker. I am not going to ask how you did it, or where they went, that’s all quite obvious. My question is- why now? You’ve dealt with dozens of hunters these past months, why did you get them out now?” 

Isaac knew that it was stupid to try and play dumb about the hunters vanishing, but confessing to helping them escape was asking for violence. So, what _should_ he say? Isaac had spent years calculating what words would lead to the least amount of suffering, but it was always a guessing game of uncertainty and paranoia. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to gain here, and I know you don’t agree with what I did, but I am tired of cleaning up bodies, hunter or not, they’re living beings. If you’re gonna punish me for saving a life, go ahead,” Isaac knew that nothing he could say would free him of guilt entirely, but if Nikita just thought he was an idiot who let hunters go out of pity rather than insurgency, maybe his fate wouldn’t be as brutal. 

“I have heard some interesting stories, Isaak,” Nikita continued. “A few new recruits mentioned a werewolf in Paris who helped hunters chase packs out of France. At first I thought, rumors can’t be trusted, but then there was a group who claimed to have fought the guy in France.” 

Oh, fuck. 

“I never met them, but they were happy to share intel with our people in Ukraine who passed the message along. This same mysterious traitor stayed with a group of emissaries in France, that is, when he wasn’t staying with the Argents. It’s curious, isn’t it?” 

Oh, _fuck_. 

“Okay, so you heard some rumors. I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Isaac knew his defense was getting weaker. He wasn’t sure why Nikita didn’t just flat out accuse him of being the spy and be done with it. “I am not a traitor.” Not a lie, really. Isaac had never betrayed these people because he had never been loyal to them in the first place. 

This was getting bad; properly, painfully bad. Say he avoided torture completely, he assumed execution would come next. Maybe rushing this process was the wrong way to go. His friends knew where he was, in a few days they would know something had gone wrong. Isaac had told them to leave and go help Scott if he didn’t return, but knowing them he should expect a full on invasion squad. Part of him hoped they didn’t. Isaac had a feeling the Argents wouldn’t waste resources for one life, so if it was just his friends trying to break into this camp he would lose all of them. Isaac couldn’t live with that. 

Nikita once more seemed to be trying to read Isaac’s expression, looking for a lie. “You know I can’t take your word on this, right, Isaak?” 

This was it. The part where Nikita explained that he was very sorry he had to do this but it was Isaac’s fault. He would explain that Isaac deserved to be hurt, so he had to do this. And then he would enjoy the violence. That’s what prior experience told him, anyway. 

None of that actually happened. In fact, Nikita turned to leave. 

“Hey! Where’re you going? I thought you wanted information- You’re not gonna find it out there,” despite Isaac’s persistent sarcasm, Nikita left him alone in the dark once more. Isaac almost wanted to break out of his bonds now. Make a desperate bid for escape despite knowing it would fail because that was easier than the return to the waiting game. Isaac over all these years had finally learned patience. He would wait, and even if his chance didn’t mean escape, he would make the most of that opportunity when it came. 

When Nikita finally returned, he was accompanied by Lev. Isaac sat up a little straighter. Lev had struck him once before for being disobedient, and had only stopped inflicting further harm because Nikita had decided that it was more beneficial to keep Isaac in line than it was to punish him. Isaac had a feeling that wasn’t true anymore. Nikita stood behind him and Isaac tried to turn so he could keep him in his line of sight. 

“Hold him still,” Nikita’s words sent chills down Isaac’s spine, but not as much panic spurred from Lev forcing his head down to his chest. 

“Hey- What’re you-” Isaac was cut off first by a sharp pain in the back of his neck followed by a blur of chaos that was a jarringly familiar state... 

It had, of course, come up in therapy. Isaac had vented to Bhatt about how unsettling it was to have his mind violated without his consent. First, an act of theft: the alpha pack ripping the memories out of his head just as much as they ripped into his body. Those stolen memories still haunted him and sometimes it was a blessing how blurry the image of Erica’s rotting corpse, the foggy echoes of terror of being locked in a tiny room with her. But they were _his_ to bear. They were meant to be a part of him and they had taken that away from him. 

It would be a lie to say the second time had been easier. Instead of taking away, Peter had dug in. He had agreed out of desperation, that desperate hope that somehow his only friends, his packmates, could return to him unharmed. It had resulted in the such a rapid and violent blur of thoughts and feelings that he still couldn’t unpack what had actually been gained from it. Isaac had felt so helpless, just getting dragged along by Peter tearing into whatever sinister work the alpha pack had done to lock away his memories. In the aftermath, Isaac had realized he had started crying at some point and even if he couldn’t place it he knew it was because of Erica. He had to bear that grief without knowing why, feel that pain without being able to hold onto its cause and turn it into rage. That part came later. 

“I never want to feel helpless like that again,” Isaac had told Bhatt. When he had gone over that frustration, he had expected Bhatt to respond as a therapist, not as an emissary. 

“You know, it’s your head. You’re the one in control, despite what it may seem like.” 

“What?” 

“Well, I suppose not entirely, it is someone… breaking in, so to speak, but it’s still your house,” Bhatt explained, seeming surprised that Isaac didn’t already know this. “They’re playing on your court. You decide where they end up. You can protect yourself.” 

“What, like in Harry Potter?” Isaac had been sarcastic, of course. “I put up magic walls in my head?” 

“Like- No, not like Harry Potter,” Bhatt shook his head. “You can’t keep them out, I’m afraid, not with their claws still in your neck, but once they’re in there, you control the… flow of things. That wave of thoughts? That chaos you half-remember? You can determine how that goes. If they’re going into your head for a particular reason, your job is to try and throw them somewhere else.” 

“So, instead of my darkest secrets, I, what, send them through a montage of my favorite comics? What, do I recite the periodic table at them until they go away?” Isaac was being genuine, despite the sass. 

“I mean, you could, but if you want to scare them off, you’ve got to send them into a psychological shock. The extremes of your personal experiences, physical pain, emotional pain, they’ll feel it with you either way.” Sometimes Isaac forgot that Bhatt spent years working alongside a pack, and from the way he talked about it, being a part of it. Sometimes Isaac forgot that Bhatt had lost as much if not more than Isaac had before Paris. 

“So, trauma?” Isaac scoffed. “In that case, I’m saved. I’ve got plenty of that to throw at them.” 

“I mean, it’s not as simple as thinking about certain memories, they’ll experience it almost like walking around a physical space. You’ve got to figure out how to manipulate that. Sort of like a mind palace. It won’t be as clear and substantial because you essentially _are_ the physical space they’re occupying. It’s based on feeling as much as thought,” Bhatt was being very instructional, not that Isaac took it very seriously outside of general curiosity. 

“Wish I’d known that then,” he sighed. “Not much use to me now.” 

Now, locked away in circumstances he never could have predicted, Isaac felt like he was trying to control a flood. Thoughts and images were slipping through his fingertips. Paris. He could see Paris and he could _feel_ something there that didn’t belong. Like a virus. Or a nightmare. That presence fought to move further down the street. _No!_ Isaac had to send him somewhere else. He couldn’t see Paris because if he saw Paris he would see- 

Nothing. He would see _nothing._

Isaac could only react on instinct, there was no time for coherent thought or planning, so suddenly he found himself terrified in the dark, glass breaking as he fell into an empty grave. If he could press that fear, that unknown, onto the invader, would it be enough to make him run? Before Derek could arrive to pull him out of that grave, once more something was tearing into his head, looking for France and some secrets. Isaac tried to trade it for Beacon Hills. But thinking about Beacon Hills meant thinking about his pack which meant thinking about _Allison_\- 

He couldn’t. 

He needed something brutal to force Nikita back, and there was only one place that immediately came to mind. His father, bearing down on him, beating him, throwing glasses at him, threatening to do worse; an endless cocktail of torture and fear. There was plenty of material and Isaac was far more numb to it than Nikita. Isaac could push himself further into the dark than most people could tolerate, he had years of therapy under his belt to help dull the pain of these memories. Isaac was shoving Nikita into the deep end of the pool, through horrors most people would never experience. What finally got Nikita to pull back, was the feeling of a belt lashing across his skin, and his father grabbing him by the hair and dragging him towards the freezer, incomprehensible horror suddenly forced back onto Nikita as he experienced Isaac’s personal hell... 

Isaac struggled to breathe as it felt like he was suddenly dragged above water. The dull lights of the cell felt blinding and his wrists ached from tugging against his restraints. Nikita was still behind him but from his haggard breathing it sounded like he was in the same state of disarray Isaac was. 

“What... the fuck..?” Nikita seemed to be surprised by this outcome. 

“What happened?” Lev hovered over him anxiously. “I don’t understand. Did something go wrong?” 

Nikita walked back into view, looking particularly pale, “you sure are fucked up, aren’t you, Isaak?” Nikita stared at him now with a certain wariness. Clearly, he hadn’t had anyone fight back before. Isaac supposed it made sense, he assumed it was relatively rare to have a werewolf who had this much experience with werewolves digging their claws into his head. 

“It’s a gift,” Isaac shrugged. His bravado was a joke, that entire ordeal had exhausted him, given him an intense headache, and left him shaky from the burst of adrenaline which now had nowhere to go. 

“Nikita, I don’t understand. Did you find out what he’s been doing?” Lev had no idea what the two of them had just experienced together. 

“Come with me,” Nikita turned to leave, staring at him as he backed out, as if expecting Isaac to do something else he couldn’t control. 

Isaac was alone again. And somehow, he had gotten through that without giving anything away. The Volos already knew he had lived in Paris, and he had steered Nikita away before he had gotten to the Argents. They already had so many suspicions, Isaac wasn’t sure if there was even a point in hiding things from these people. The only thing that was a risk would be if they realized two lone hunters would be on their doorstep in a few days. He couldn’t let that happen. 

Isaac was starting to feel thirsty. His mouth just a bit dry in a way that Isaac knew was only going to get worse. Isaac should have been more accustomed to being kept in a cage for hours on end. He had spent whole weekends in a box smaller than a coffin. Getting a little thirsty while tied to a chair should’ve been almost cozy. It didn’t matter how he _should_ have felt, he was angry with himself for getting caught, for going back for Sasha only to have him _refuse_ to go with him, and of course that monster was prowling the woods right when Isaac was trying to get out of there alive. Isaac’s luck was impossibly bad. 

Isaac was cold. His feet were freezing on the concrete and as he was only in a t shirt, shivering set in quickly. How had Leo gotten through it? The guy was so scrawny as is. Isaac hoped he was doing okay, that they’d gotten him to a hospital or something. And that they would only come running into this camp with proper reinforcements. 

Knowing Romy, unlikely. The moment she realized something was wrong she would come barreling in to save him. _Why_ had Isaac asked for a few days? Why not just that night? Had he really thought he would find himself in a position to ease Sasha into the idea? He was so stupid, and now he was going to pay for it. But sadly not _right_ now, first he would be forced to wait there in the dark for hours. 

Isaac had learned to sleep just about anywhere, and eventually the toll of the past hours overwhelmed him. 

Isaac was dragged out of sleep by a sharp backhand across his cheek. He shook his head, blinking in the harsh light as the world returned to focus. 

“T-Tanya..?” Isaac muttered, staring at her in muted confusion. Oh right. Captured. Locked in a bunker. _Tanya._ As Leo had so pleasantly explained, she was a far more sinister force than Lev. 

“Hello, Isaak,” Tanya looked no different now than she did any other day, yet that good natured motherly demeanor now seemed mocking. “You really shook up my brother earlier. That’s never happened to him before.” She looked him over not with the curious concern she had shown him when they had first met so many months ago but rather with an analytical eye. “I’m afraid I won’t forgive you for that.” 

Isaac should have kept his eyes on her _hands_. Isaac was perfectly hyper aware of how close any aggressive or domineering man was to him, where their fists were, if they were about to hit him, despite women like Kali proving to him that brutality was not confined to one gender, Isaac didn’t have the same instinct towards the maternal as he did towards the paternal. Not that Tanya moved to strike him, but in her right hand she had nails. Dozens of rusty nails of varying length. Isaac didn’t need to guess why she had them, but the wounds he had seen on other prisoners had always been werewolfish in nature, if not cuts from claws, then broken bones from brute strength. 

“Are you curious?” Tanya noticed that they had caught his attention and the way her tone hushed did nothing to calm him. “About why I have these when claws would serve just as well?” 

It wasn’t like Isaac had any intention of responding. He knew what was coming, regardless of her explanations or taunting. 

“If I were to use my claws, they would eventually have to come out and you would just heal, yes?” Tanya was talking like she was simply teaching him a lesson, and while in a very different sort of way, perhaps she was. “These are my placemarkers.” Before Isaac could make a sarcastic retort - as if he would have dared to do so considering - he was biting back a scream with a nail forced deep into his leg. “Try healing around _that_, traitor.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey uh big ol' warning this chapter gets really violent and kinda creepy and it's a lot. I mean I'm sure at this point you'd expect nothing less of me, but wanted to give you guys a heads up. 
> 
> Best of luck folks.

Isaac had nails all along both of his thighs. His arms were now being dotted with more of them, but Isaac wasn’t looking at that, he kept looking down. Blood was darkening his jeans around each little wound, welling up around the nailhead. Isaac was struck by the thought that jeans covered in dried blood and nails would’ve seemed badass to Romy. She would wear them with studs instead of actual nails and think it was incredibly punk rock. This thought led to a whimpering laugh bubbling up from his bloodied lips - no, Tanya hadn’t put any nails in his face, yet, but she _had_ slashed him across the face for moving too much - his apparent mental break led to Tanya actually pausing in her current course of action of sticking a nail through the inside of his elbow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already lost it, Isaak. We’ve only just gotten started,” Tanya held onto his chin, rather tenderly forcing him to look up at her. “I think this could be fun, dear. What if for every question you answer right, I take out a nail? And if you get it wrong, well, I’ll just keep on adding more. I mean, I’ll likely being doing that anyway, but this way we can pretend it’s more of a game.” 

Isaac said nothing, staring off rather vacantly, but refusing to look her in the eye. Seeming disappointed in his lack of engagement, she returned to her task. Isaac was rather gifted at dissociating from pain just as he was experienced in avoiding eye contact. That didn’t stop him from biting back a whimper as Tanya forced another nail into his arm, now creating a ring of them around his elbow. Isaac felt the strangest pain shudder up his arm as the next nail cut through nerve endings and cracked through bone. Isaac screamed for the first time in a while. If she kept going, maybe she would cut through enough nerves to make the rest of Isaac’s arm go numb. He had stripes made of blood all along his arm from it dripping from each little wound, so he hoped so. 

“I think that looks rather pretty, don’t you?” Tanya admired her handiwork. “Once it wraps all the way around, I think I’ll do the same to the other side. Symmetry and all that.” 

She seemed to notice that her captive was growing numb to this, well, as numb as he could be as his body was slowly but surely being covered in holes. When she had first started stabbing Isaac in the leg over and over he had been unable to hold back screams. Tanya had leapt right into the most brutal torture she could think of, so there was no middle ground where Isaac still had the energy to make sarcastic remarks or try and act _tough_, what a joke. There was something particularly horrifying about feeling his body trying to heal around the nails only to be stopped and the wounds forced to stay open. It was exhausting to say the least. Isaac knew he had no hope of healing right now, but that didn’t stop his wolfish abilities from trying, with no understanding of how those futile efforts were draining energy from their host. That unsettlement was being continually punctured by fresh wounds that were forced to stay open. Over and over. Isaac had resisted getting desperate enough to beg for mercy so far, but he had a feeling Tanya was committed to changing that. 

“Now, Isaak, why don’t you tell me about how you know the Argents?” Tanya seemed to be looking for another nail which would match the ones she already had in his arm. 

“F-Fuck you…” Isaac hated the amount of effort it took to spit those words out. 

Tanya didn’t acknowledge it, pressing on. “I think me asking if it _was_ the Argents earlier was a bit stupid, I’ll admit it. You were in Paris, of _course_ it was the Argents. But I am just _burning_ up with curiosity for how you stumbled onto their doorstep.” 

A clever choice of words on Tanya’s part. _Of fucking course,_ Isaac knew he must look afraid but he couldn’t help it when he looked up and saw Tanya heating the next nail with a lighter until the metal glowed red. Not just any lighter, she had her bloody hands on _Cam’s_ lighter. 

“That’s mine,” Isaac didn’t know why he said it. What, did he expect her to give it back? It was just an act of frustration and helplessness. Isaac had no control anymore, but he wasn’t going to sit back while this psychopath had his brother’s lighter. 

“Don’t look so wounded,” Tanya scoffed. “This’ll make getting through the bone a little easier. Probably will make it faster for you, won’t it?” 

Isaac, however exhausted, could do nothing to contain another scream tearing from his dry throat as a new sense of pain pierced his arm. Isaac could smell his own bubbling flesh in harsh detail. If Isaac’s mouth hadn’t been so painfully dry he would’ve gagged. If he could just _rest_, surely this had been going on for hours now, but Tanya showed no sign of stopping. 

“As I was saying- How did you meet the Argents?” Tanya moved on like nothing had happened. Like this was all just _conversational._ “Come on, it can’t hurt to tell me that. And like I promised, I’ll take a nail out of you if you answer.” 

Isaac had no more sarcasm left in him and instead remained silent. She was right, saying how he met the Argents likely wouldn’t do any damage, especially to the ones actually in France and within reach of the Volos, but first it was some innocuous fact about his life that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned and the next thing he knew that relief would be too tempting and he would be letting slip what the walls of the Argent fortress were made of, where the Argent children went to school, and soon after he would be chatting about his friends _hiding in the woods alone_ only a few kilometers away. 

Silence was the safest option, but _fuck_ did it hurt. 

Tanya noted that Isaac made no move to speak. “Pity.” 

Another pierced his arm, a line continuing up towards his shoulder where there would be more bones for her to toy with breaking. “We _gave_ you an easy way out, and this is how you repay us?” Tanya spoke as she searched for more nails. Werewolves couldn’t get tetanus, right? “You watched all of those hunters suffer because we couldn’t rip what we needed out of their heads – not without killing them before we could get anything useful, at least – and you _still_ decided you’d rather join them? We can both agree that these human-safe methods are far more barbaric than what our kind is capable of.” She paused, seemingly thinking on how best to hurt him next. “I’m running out of longer nails… Maybe I’ll try somewhere else.” 

Isaac pulled away best he could when Tanya turned to face him, not like he had anywhere to go. He really wished he had realized that moving at all would hurt every single nail mark on his body. Isaac kept his head down, too tired to see what was coming, he instead stared at a nail that went all the way through his arm. 

“Don’t look so pathetic,” Tanya scoffed. Isaac flinched when she reached towards him, and felt in no way relieved when she didn’t hit him. Isaac barely reacted when she cut a line down his chest with a single claw, the pain infinitesimal compared to what he had already been through, but he did shudder when she touched his chest, taking apart his shirt which she had now torn in half. “You _sure_ you don’t want to reconsider? One question, and all this gets a little better.” 

Isaac shook his head, looking anywhere but at her. Isaac bit down on his lip, refusing to scream again as Tanya took another nail and forced it into his chest. Isaac had first been only generally horrified by Tanya feeling up his chest, that is, until he realized through a blur of new pain that she was targeting his ribs. It took a brutally slow amount of time for Tanya to break through bone. And once that was done, the pain didn’t go away. Especially as she pressed the next nail in just above it, this time between the ribs, piercing deeper into his chest. It continued, forming a haphazard line across his chest. Another nail pierced through bone and Isaac bit down on his lip so hard he bled. Tears were welling in his eyes despite his desperate attempts against them, but the pain refused to stop. And Isaac could think of no way to cope other than to bear it in its full and agonizing capacity. 

Isaac had never learned how to compartmentalize this kind of torture. Not to say he had figured out to cope with his father beating him, but he had learned how to focus on the furniture and junk scattered around the basement. He would remain fixated on the TV his father broke, on his grandmother’s hutch that his mom loved and his dad hated, broken mirrors and shattered picture frames, anything besides the physical abuse his father was inflicting at the time. 

Isaac had nothing to focus on here, nothing to escape into. Even if it didn’t change the physical pain, Isaac just wished his mind could wander. All he could do was stare at the thin fluorescent light overhead which blurred in his vision as tears escaped anyway. “Please… please make it stop, _please_, just let it stop- just let it _stop_\- _please_-” A hysterical stream of words and relentless pleading, mumbled incoherently as he continued to ignore Tanya. He wasn’t begging her, and he certainly wasn’t pleading with some _god_, but the act of begging for mercy was a familiar one, and he found himself clinging to that since there was nothing else. 

And those words came back to him in all their unending cruelty. _You are never getting out of here._

When the door opened once again Isaac was so on edge he flinched at the sound like he had been hit. Lev stood in the doorway, a bottle of water at his side. He stared at Isaac without an ounce of concern, but rather surprise. 

“What the hell did you do to him?” Lev asked. 

“Not enough, apparently,” Tanya stood, wiping Isaac’s blood on his shirt. “The little bastard has been sobbing for a while now and he _still_ hasn’t answered a single question,” Tanya kicked him in the leg, seeming to appreciate the way he winced. “Isn’t that right, Isaak?” She turned back to her friend. “And what can I do for you, Lev?” 

Isaac watched carefully as Lev seemed to grimace, “he’s almost here.” 

“I- I’m not _done_ here yet,” Tanya actually sounded _afraid_. Isaac would like to pretend that fear for them meant something good happening for him, but he knew better by now. 

“That’s why I brought _this_,” he shoved the bottle of water into her hands. “Although, I think you’ve figured out your own method for stopping him from healing,” he almost seemed teasing, before he returned to worry. “Please try. Nikita is already spooked from what happened before, and I don’t think he’ll view it as just a mistake.” 

It wasn’t hard for Isaac to figure out what they were talking about. Alyosha was coming. And it sounded like Tanya had to make his life a living hell before he got there. Lev left them to it, and Tanya exhaled shakily, a hand running through her hair as she paced, looking more than a little frantic. 

Isaac managed a harsh laugh, “you’re scared...” His voice was growing more and more cracked as his mouth continued to dry. 

Tanya grabbed the bottle of water, and Isaac assumed she was only going to offer it if he gave something else, but rather there was something far more terrifying about her getting ready to pour it down his throat. She forced his head back and before Isaac could futilely tell her to stop or ask what she was doing, he was desperately trying to spit out the water that tasted _bitter_. Familiarly so. Just enough wolfsbane, Isaac assumed, so that he would be unable to heal. 

“Fucking drink it or I will gauge your eye out,” Tanya snarled. Isaac couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t doubt Tanya’s threat considering how desperate she was, so he drank poison. Once this was done, though, Tanya didn’t seem to know what to do. Isaac’s chest and other arm were also covered in nails by this point, it had been an exercise in futility for a while now, but Tanya couldn’t seem to think of what else she could do. Rather than act on Isaac’s drugged up state, she left, slamming the door behind her. 

It wasn’t like Tanya leaving stopped the torment. Isaac’s entire body ached and his mouth and skin faintly burned from where the tainted water had touched it, just enough to irritate him alongside the pain. Isaac had a feeling he would begin to feel sick soon enough. Isaac hadn’t had much time to think when he was busy trying to do anything but think about the pain, but in this moment of pause, Isaac had one thought: his body was covered in weapons. 

Sadly, Tanya hadn’t thought to put any nails through his hands - a thought he never thought he would have - but he thought that if he reached he might be able to take one out of his leg… 

Isaac couldn’t contain a whimper as his arm throbbed horribly, he could feel the metal shifting in his muscles as he reached for the nail sticking out of his leg just above his knee. Isaac almost gave up, the pain of it, of pushing certain nails deeper and trying to reach one, clawing frantically at already wounded skin, but it was the only thing he could reach for. 

“_Yes!_ You got it… you got it,” Isaac mumbled into the empty room, the bloodied nail now clutched like a vice in his right hand. The silence which followed this struggle felt especially sharp. Great. So he had a nail. Now what? 

Isaac was still saving his opportunity to break his thumbs, an odd thought, but he needed to wait to break out when he actually had a chance of accomplishing something. Had he tried to fight off Tanya, had he even succeeded, he would have staggered through the bunker and reached another locked door. Getting through that, he would be trying to run from dozens of murderous werewolves half dressed through the woods. That was not the opportunity he was looking for. 

Isaac just kept waiting, precisely aware of every nail in his body, in too much pain and too afraid of dropping his only defense to try and sleep. The nail was as long as his fist, and as long as he didn’t move, they wouldn’t be able to tell he had it. That was something. Yes, Tanya had been drugging him, but he had finally gotten some water so his head was less foggy. Well, now the fog was more of a headache likely from the poison, but he was lucid enough for this. 

Isaac, with too much time to think, realized something else that could pose to be problematic. Isaac had likely stopped healing, and if not yet, soon the wolfsbane would have spread enough that his healing abilities would grow sluggish. This made his usual method of breaking his own hand to break free more than a little worrying. Isaac could take on pain, especially when he knew it wouldn’t last, but if his hand stayed broken, could he still hold onto that nail and try to fight back? How long would he have to struggle with a broken thumb when he could already barely move considering how much pain he was in? 

Isaac had known for a while now, not that he had wanted to acknowledge it, but the thought _you are never getting out of here_, might be less rhetorical than he would have hoped. Isaac knew that he was not going to break out of this bunker with nothing but a single nail, and when he decided he needed to make the most of his one opportunity out of his bonds, he knew it wasn’t for escape. It was to inflict as much damage onto his captors as he could before they put him down. 

By the time the cell door opened, Isaac had been left there for so long that the blood dripping from his arms had started to pool on the floor and the sound was starting to drive him mad. Part of him still wished the door had stayed closed. 

Tanya came in first, looking pale and anxious. She got in his face, pressing in on one of the nails in Isaac’s chest, “you better watch your fucking mouth or I’ll sew it shut,” she hissed. Isaac knew enough by now to believe her threats. 

Tanya was quick to get out of the way, standing by the door as Lev entered followed by Nikita followed by… someone else. 

Isaac didn’t know what he expected a werewolf fascist dictator to look like, but his appearance was only a little off. Fur coat, thick boots, long dark hair, well built enough, and red eyes. Maybe beyond that there was something a little too inhuman about how sunken his eyes were or how his gait seemed to shift like someone used to treading through the woods, _hunting_. It wasn’t his appearance that unsettled Isaac and the others in the room, it was his presence. The man radiated calm authority, and maybe Isaac was just projecting the anxiety of the others in the room, but there was something dangerous under that calm. Isaac realized what it was, everything about this man didn’t seem like a werewolf, not even a cunning bastard like Peter or the alpha pack, everything about this man said _snake._ The kind that would put Jackson’s kanima days to shame. Everyone in the room seemed hyper aware that he could strike at any time. Isaac was a little confused by this dynamic considering the amount of hero worship he had heard around this man. None of their idolization had come with terror before. 

The three other werewolves in the room were staring anxiously between Isaac and Alyosha, and Isaac caught on. Tanya’s fear of failure, Nikita’s worries about being unable to get into Isaac’s head, Lev’s panic once the man was on his way, all of it said one thing: they had screwed up. And that screw up was currently chained to a chair. 

Alyosha had been looking him over, something cold and unreadable behind those red eyes. Finally, he clapped, and Isaac noted he wasn’t the only one to flinch. “Well! You didn’t tell me how pretty he was, Nikita,” Alyosha leaned closer, Isaac leaned back, his hair standing on end, heart beating just a little faster for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom besides _wrong_. That didn’t stop Alyosha from coming within inches of his face, an amused, almost _hungry_ smile revealed fangs. “Maybe I’ll keep him alive a little longer.” 

_What the fuck?_

“Hm,” Alyosha was staring at his chest now, and Isaac had never felt more exposed. He wished Tanya had just nailed through his shirt instead of cutting it off because this was worse. It took everything Isaac had left not to show weakness when Alyosha dragged a single claw across his chest, not enough to pierce the skin, but it came away now wet with the blood already there. The revulsion Isaac felt from his touch left him shuddering but absolutely helpless and unable to react. Isaac had a feeling a single sarcastic comment would lead to him getting his tongue cut out before Tanya even had the chance to sew his mouth shut. Alyosha stepped back, licking the blood from his finger, his eyes never leaving Isaac. 

_What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-_ Isaac knew he was shaking, but how was he meant to pretend to be all cool and collected after that?! 

“Your girl sure did a number on him,” Alyosha spoke to Nikita, despite Tanya standing right there, and he was _still_ staring at Isaac. “I will admit, I am surprised. _This_ is the rat who’s been causing all that trouble? A yellow-eyed mutt who’s too terrified to even speak?” Alyosha still seemed more amused by this whole charade than anything. “Am I meant to be impressed?” Isaac could tell the man was only trying to goad a reaction, but Isaac still had the sanity left to be offended, even if he definitely wasn’t going to voice that. 

“Tell me, what _have_ you learned so far?” Alyosha finally turned back to Nikita, who had the courage to at least look the alpha head on, something Lev and Tanya had been unable to do. 

“We believe he was sent by the Argents. We know he lived in Paris with some emissaries, and several of our kind explained that he attacked them there _and_ helped the Argents invade their home,” Nikita explained. 

“Do I really need to clarify? I meant what have you learned from _him?_ You think I’m incapable of gathering information from my own troops?” 

“N-No,” Nikita winced. “I’m afraid he’s been quite resilient so far.” 

“Oh yes you told me about your particular failings,” Aloysha continued to mock Nikita. They must be in deep shit if this was how Alyosha was talking to his right hand. Isaac would have taken pride in how troublesome he was if he weren’t about to pay for it dearly. 

“There were unforeseen complications,” Nikita at least had the courage to try and justify himself. “He somehow managed to push me out.” 

“Did he now? I wasn’t aware that little omegas could best you so easily, Nikita,” Alyosha was less teasing now and far colder. Nikita kept his mouth shut. Alyosha turned back to Isaac with that same terrifying _interest_ in those inhuman and soulless eyes. Maybe it was stupid of him, but Isaac stared right back. Alyosha continued and Isaac had a terrifying feeling he was talking directly to him now, “but don’t you worry. I’m going to fix that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Sorry about this one guys :/
> 
> Another thing I just want to mention: I'm not here to preach at you, I know for a lot of people reading is an escape, but there is horrible police violence happening in my country and even in my city. I'm sure you've all heard but just in case: there have been protests across the US over the unjust murder of an unarmed black man by the police and the response has been violent suppression of protesters. If you want to help bail out protesters or get informed, here's a [Link](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) to a bunch of resources.
> 
> If you don't want to read about more bad news, no worries. It's a lot easier to chat about fictional violence than the real stuff and I did finish this chapter because I wanted to _not_ think about all that scary stuff.
> 
> So. We can just worry about Isaac for now. Take care of yourselves, guys.


	17. Chapter 17

Isaac had one goal in mind, no matter what happened to him, he couldn’t let them find out that Jeanie and Romy were so close, he couldn’t let them be put at risk. Yet the moment he needed to _not_ think about them, they wouldn’t leave his mind. Alyosha stood behind him and Isaac wanted nothing more than to put some distance between them, everything about the man set him on edge, like footsteps in his old house. Alyosha reached a clawed hand around his throat holding on far tighter than necessary.

“Get off me-” 

“Shh,” Alyosha did nothing to calm him, his voice too soft for how much violence was behind his words, his breath too close to Isaac’s skin. “Don’t move or I’ll do worse than kill you.” 

Isaac was torn, part of him didn’t want to go quietly, but he had suffered enough. He could hardly move anyways, even as that all too familiar sharp pain pierced the back of his neck... 

This time was different. There was still that torrent of memories and emotions overwhelming him, but it felt more controlled. The problem was, it didn’t seem like it was being controlled by _him_. Isaac felt like he was trying to remember a dream in real time, it all felt disconnected, he could _feel_ the memories, they were his after all, but Alyosha’s presence in his mind was more at ease than Nikita’s. That control at least meant Isaac had more time to think through what he was experiencing. Bhatt’s explanation of the invader viewing his mind as a physical space made more sense now, he could- well, _see_ wasn’t the right word, but he could sense a figure walking through something, like they were walking through his memories. 

Alyosha pushed hard. Far more aggressive and precise than Nikita’s chaotic scramble. Isaac almost felt like he was being pushed out of the way in his own consciousness, it made it harder to focus, he was slipping, but Alyosha was in Paris now, he was outside the Argent’s doors- That was as far as the enemy had ever seen and Isaac intended to keep it that way, but every time Isaac tried to get him away he wormed his way back. Isaac had over a year of memories with the Argents, he blocked off one memory, Alyosha found his way back to Paris by walking through another. This frustrating game of hide and seek was exhausting both of them. 

Wait. Maybe Isaac didn’t need to keeping changing what Alyosha was seeing, but what he was feeling. As Bhatt had said, Alyosha experienced this like a physical space, he was _walking_ through Isaac’s mind, finding ways to sneak past every direction Isaac turned him to. His sense of self and body gave him stability. _But_ Isaac happened to have memories of being moderately paralyzed. Kanima venom. He thought Alyosha having to experience being threatened by Gerard was just an added bonus. 

Isaac experienced it alongside him. They both were crawling on the locker room floor, with Argents behind them prepared to cut them in half. Isaac could also feel Alyosha’s confusion and frustration. It seemed he had never been poisoned by a kanima before. For surprising amount of time it actually worked, but Isaac hadn’t considered something rather important- Scott. 

Isaac’s fear with his paralysis was replaced by echoes of smug pride, and before he knew it he was rescued. Isaac didn’t want him to see Scott. He didn’t want Scott to exist in the mind of a man like that. Isaac didn’t think through where he would try and push him next. 

_Fuck_, Alyosha was still moving, at a far worse off pace, but enough that he was still heading towards Paris. Isaac could feel a spike of irritation that wasn’t his own as he pushed images of the Beacon Hills preserve to replace the city streets. Alyosha pushed back, moving back towards thoughts of the Argents with an almost physical force. He could see _Allison_, smudged perceptions of her face and her laugh drifting too close when the Argents came to mind, thoughts of her wouldn’t hurt his friends but this man didn’t have the fucking _right_. Isaac wouldn’t let him see her any more than he would let him near Scott. But Alyosha wouldn’t stop _pushing,_ he sensed a weakness in Isaac, an intensity when Allison appeared. He pursued. Alyosha followed his anger and his grief, exposing them both to the raw shock Isaac experienced the night she died. 

_No._ Isaac refused to allow it. This predatory monster was _not_ going to probe into the worst of Isaac’s mind and do whatever he wanted. This was Isaac’s head and Isaac’s trauma. _He_ would decide how they both suffered. Alyosha was fighting a lot harder, a lot _better_ than Nikita and there was only one place Isaac could think of without escape. 

The thing was, putting Alyosha in the freezer meant putting himself back in there too, not just in the space, not just in the illusion he knew he could get out of, even though he would maintain his awareness, that fear would be real. The point of this was he needed this more than he feared it. Isaac was stronger than his memories, stronger than his father, stronger than this sick motherfucker who thought he could screw around in Isaac’s _head._ No fucking way. 

Metal walls inches away from his body and Isaac was consumed by a level of hysteria he hadn’t faced for years. Isaac couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was dying, he was clawing at the metal above him, he could _feel_ the memory of pain as his fingernails were torn apart but nothing could help him catch his breath, he was going to die, his father was going to leave him down here and he was going to die of thirst and it was going to hurt and he would never see the sun again and no one would even notice he was gone- 

_Your friends would. The Argents, Chris, all of them._

… 

_Scott would. Even after all this time, you know he would._

… 

_Calm._ That fear melted away under reality, because Isaac’s reality was the fact that he would be connected to Scott no matter how much time or distance was between them. Scott was his alpha. Scott was his _friend._ Even if things had changed– Isaac knew they would have by now– he trusted Scott. 

This peaceful revelation meant that Isaac didn’t notice at first that while Isaac had removed himself from the hysteria of the freezer, Alyosha had not. And from that rage radiating like an undercurrent in Isaac’s subconscious, Alyosha _couldn’t_ free himself this time. Isaac had no idea how, he didn’t understand why Alyosha didn’t just use brute force to get himself out like before, but somehow Isaac’s freezer trick had stumped him. Isaac wasn’t sure how long Alyosha continued to struggle, time felt strange here, but eventually that jarring feeling of being pulled above water returned and the dark cell came into focus, Lev, Tanya, and Nikita watching with bated breath. 

Alyosha was just as disoriented and breathless as Nikita had been. Was Isaac’s trauma really that good of a defense? None of the other werewolves dare asked what happened, simply waited with the kind of self control that only grew from fear. 

“You… You told me he was an omega,” a different kind of anger came from Alyosha now, Isaac almost thought the man was _embarrassed._

“I-” Nikita seemed confused and terrified. “He- He was- He _is_. He doesn’t have a pack, that’s why he’s here alone.” Alyosha remained silent behind Isaac and from that Nikita seemed to pale even further. “I mean- He works for hunters, how could we know if he had a pack, it doesn’t make sense-” 

Alyosha moved past Isaac inhumanly fast, his face now inches from Nikita’s. “You said he was an omega,” he actually growled, “you didn’t say anything about an unmarked alpha.” 

_What_ the hell did that mean? An ‘unmarked alpha’? _Unmarked_ was the literal translation, but there had to be more nuance to it than that. Yet another weird Russian werewolf culture thing that had gone over his head. 

“A-An unmarked alpha?” Nikita seemed equally bemused, but not by the wording, by the statement itself. “That’s- That has to be impossible, they’re a _myth_, a joke, really-” A clawed hand wrapped around Nikita’s throat. 

“You think I don’t know what I felt?” Alyosha didn’t snap the words or snarl or show anger, just that deadly hushed calm, almost teasing. And far more terrifying. 

Nikita shook his head furiously, Alyosha finally let go but seemed no less agitated. Isaac was thinking a mile a minute, but he had no time to actually process their words, he had something far more important to worry about than why these psychopaths were so baffled by him. 

Isaac was never getting out of here – No, that wasn’t his focus, he had put that behind him for now – but right now Alyosha was in the room with him. He didn’t know if he would have this opportunity again. Alyosha was facing away from him and all other eyes were on him. No one was paying attention to the little beta covered in blood currently breaking his own thumbs. 

Isaac didn’t react to the pain, he didn’t even scream, because of this no one had even realized he had moved until he had an arm around Alyosha’s throat and a nail trained on his eye. Split second decisions. This all came down to instinct in the milliseconds between being stopped and being ruthless. 

Isaac forced the nail into the inner corner of his eye, pressing it deep. Alyosha screamed, finally afraid, finally touched in some way, as blood spurted from his eye which Isaac had felt burst underneath the nail– a horrifying detail to process later, if there was a later– and sprayed down the man’s chest, going so far as to stain Nikita’s shirt red. 

“Nobody fucking move or I will push this thing right into his brain I swear I will,” Isaac felt disconnected from the vicious certainty in his voice yet he also felt finally present in his own body, in his own freewill, after all this helplessness. 

A strange moment frozen in time, and Isaac could see behind each of their eyes a hesitation, a moment where all of them, Lev, Nikita, Tanya, each thought in turn, _go ahead_. 

Isaac wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that the moment passed, and they were worshipful subjects once more. 

“Stay calm, Isaak. You know if you kill him we’ll only hurt you more before we kill you,” Nikita spoke slowly, as if to calm a startled animal, his hands were slightly raised, his own weak expression of passivity despite Isaac seeing in his calculating eyes that he was nothing but. 

“Yeah, well, you were gonna do that anyways. At least this way I get to take down a predator with me, right?” Isaac spat the words, almost subconsciously shifting the nail to illicit another scream from his captive. Isaac felt no pity for a man who got off on murdering terrified teenagers. Isaac felt absolutely nothing, the nails in his body might as well have disappeared, his broken fingers, still not properly healed, still clutched the nail like nothing else was more important. Isaac felt no fear, no pain, no survival instinct, only a conviction so set in stone that it would outlive him. Considering his circumstances, that felt all the more clear now. 

“Okay,” Nikita was _still_ trying to soothe him, as if anything could have stopped him at that point, Isaac was only trying to figure out how he could put enough distance between himself and the three other werewolves that he would be sure that they couldn’t stop him. “I understand, Isaak. You think that this will help, don’t you?” 

Isaac laughed harshly, stepping back. Nikita stepped forward, Lev and Tanya followed. _Fuck._

“I don’t think you do understand. I don’t _care_ if this will help, I know it sure as hell won’t hurt,” another attempt to step further away. He couldn’t put enough distance between them to do what he had to before the rest caught up. Isaac always knew the exact distance between someone’s fists and his face, and right now that distance was too close. It didn’t help that Isaac’s reactions were just a hair slower in his slightly drugged state. 

Nikita paused, clearly trying to spin some more manipulative words. Isaac didn’t mind, it gave him more time to think of how he would ensure that this ended right. Nikita Just kept talking in that same muted tone. Far too calm for a hostage situation. 

“Isaak, if you kill him, if you even move in any way besides dropping that nail, Lev is going to go get Sasha and I will tear him apart in front of you.” 

_Oh._

Isaac wished he could know in his final moments that he had hesitated, that he had considered pushing on for the greater good despite the personal pain it would cause, but that would be a lie. Isaac let go and backed off without another thought. Every ounce of belief or hope he had carried that he could do the right thing fell to the floor alongside the nail. Isaac hit the floor soon after, Lev on top of him, Isaac’s head burst into a wave of pain when it hit the concrete, his vision blurred, helpless even as Lev broke his nose, even as Lev’s hands wrapped around his throat, holding tighter, claws digging in as he cut off Isaac’s ability to breathe. Isaac couldn’t fight him off. Isaac wasn’t even sure if he was really trying, clawing weakly at Lev’s face, every movement causing more pain than it was worth. 

Maybe it was easier this way. No more pain, no more fighting for nothing, he could just let go. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this, and Isaac thought being strangled wasn’t the worst way to go, his vision was starting to go now, he was okay with this. His friends would help Scott and he tried. He really did, but now he could rest. 

“No,” Alyosha spoke up, enough authority in his tone that Lev backed off immediately. Isaac gasped for breath, the world still foggy as he tried to get some oxygen back to his brain. 

Okay, so, he was still alive. Now what? 

“Alyosha, he tried to kill you and we haven’t been able to get anything out of him-” Nikita spoke up. 

“I’m well aware,” Alyosha was surprisingly calm considering his eye was still full of blood, Isaac wasn’t sure if even a werewolf could heal from a wound like that. Isaac stayed on the ground, too tired to move, still struggling to catch his breath, but he knew Alyosha was staring at him. There was nothing Isaac could do but wait for this monster to decide his fate. Maybe he should take another nail out of his skin and put himself out his misery. 

“Leave him here for now,” Alyosha gave him no solace. Isaac had no idea what he had planned, and he wouldn’t know any time soon. Lev picked him up by the throat and slammed him against the back wall, likely incurring more temporary brain damage for him, and chained him there, Isaac was fatigued and disoriented and didn’t register what Lev was doing to him until it was too late. 

“N-No-” Isaac tugged at the chain now around his neck, but the more he fought the more it choked him, and soon he was left alone in the dark with nothing to occupy himself but the feeling of the chain around his neck. _He wouldn’t have known, he wouldn’t have known- he didn’t do this knowing how much you’d panic,_ thinking that didn’t calm him down. Isaac fought to think about anything but the chain around his neck, but the only other options were the nails covering his body or the monsters just outside deciding what to do to him next. 

Isaac was helpless. He _hated_ being helpless. Isaac had used his chance, he had tried to fight back, he had tried to do the right thing, and it all fell apart anyways. He wasn’t going to get out of here and he wouldn’t even die a hero. Isaac was going to suffer and then his body would still be thrown in a pit with a dozen others. 

But he’d protected Sasha. He had kept his friends safe, refused to expose them or anyone else. He’d gone down fighting. Isaac would hold onto that no matter what Alyosha decided to do with his body. 

“F-Fuck,” Isaac’s voice cracked, tears returning not out of pain, but grief. He had _promised_ Romy he would come back. Even if Sasha hated him, Isaac had failed to save him. Isaac didn’t want to think about Alyosha would do when he found out there was another defenseless yellow-eyed omega here. Isaac hoped what he had done would be enough. That somehow all of this would end without too much bloodshed. He was so _tired_ of picking up bodies. Isaac choked back sobs, trying to hold on to some semblance of stability as every injustice weighed on him. 

He was never going to get the chance to make it up to Scott. He was never going to go back to Beacon Hills, he would never tell be able to him how much Scott meant to him. 

To tell Scott that he loved him. Because that was the truth of it, he couldn't stop thinking it because that was the only truth he wanted anymore. 

_I love him._

Not past tense, not in theory, not only the Scott he remembered from so long ago. No matter what had happened between then and now, Isaac would love Scott. Isaac would love him until he died. Even if that was just a few hours more. 

Isaac stopped his moment of vulnerability the moment that door opened. Lev unchained him, pinning his arms behind his back and shoving him towards the hall. _What the fuck?_ Where the hell were they taking him? Were they going to execute him outside, so the other Volos could watch? But Lev didn’t lead him towards the exit, he led him deeper into the bunker. The unknown was surely scarier than anything these people could actually do to him. 

Alyosha was waiting for him, but no sign of Nikita or Tanya. Isaac didn’t want to be alone with these men. Isaac noted with some smugness that Alyosha was still down an eye, the one he had stabbed was still a messy wound covered in dried blood. At least he had done something. Isaac was so focused on their presence and the threat they posed together that he hadn’t registered what was behind Alyosha. 

A chest, empty and waiting. And big enough for a body. 

Isaac’s heart was immediately beating out of his chest, blood pounding in his ears as every fiber of his being said “no- No, you can’t! Let go of me- Let me go!” Isaac thought he had given up but now he was fighting back like a wild animal. Injured, drugged, and destined to die, Isaac was _not_ going to be put in a fucking box. 

Lev seemed shocked. So far Isaac had been a stumbling mess, barely conscious after all of his injuries, and now he was vicious. Isaac tried to turn around, he tried to get his claws out, but the wolfsbane left him too weak and unsteady. Isaac still threw all of his body weight back at Lev, freeing his hands, and trying to shove him out of the way. Lev pushed back, knocking Isaac to the floor, a hand pressing down on Isaac’s throat, his own claws digging in so Isaac’s neck bled. Lev’s eyes glowed red. _Oh._

A dozen conclusions and understandings made in an instant. Nikita wasn’t down here. Alyosha needed someone to blame for Isaac sneaking his way inside, and the simple solution would be to replace the leader who had failed him. For all Lev’s pretenses of loyalty, it seemed he had enough of a reason to kill Nikita for his power. Isaac didn’t feel concern for Tanya, but he wondered if she had tried to protect her brother in the end. If that was why she wasn’t down here either. 

Lev started to drag Isaac back to his feet, the man still too close for comfort, Isaac could feel his breath on his face, his fangs, those red eyes bearing down on him. Isaac couldn’t turn to run or even pull away, he couldn’t defend himself with his own claws or fangs. 

Humans had teeth too. 

Isaac bit into the side of Lev’s neck, tearing into his flesh with a desperate ferocity. It was clear Lev hadn’t expected that. The new alpha howled in pain as his blood gushed between Isaac’s teeth, but Isaac refused to relent. As Isaac bit down harder, Lev’s screams turned to disgusting bubbling gasps as blood filled his throat. Isaac didn’t stop. 

Isaac _refused_ to die in a box. He didn’t care if they killed him now, he didn’t care if they tore him apart, nothing was getting him back in a cage. 

Lev was still trying to fight him off, but he was choking on his own blood just as Isaac could taste it. He was going to kill Lev, but Isaac could live- or die- with that. Maybe then Alyosha would kill him before putting him in that box. 

Isaac felt a clawed hand wrap around his throat, not only pulling him away, but prying his mouth open and forcing him off of Lev. Maybe Isaac in that state of feral adrenaline could fight off one alpha, but not two. Isaac still tried to get Alyosha away from him, but the man had him in a suffocating bearhug, Isaac’s arms pinned to his sides, Alyosha out of reach of Isaac’s already bloody mouth. 

“Don’t! Get off me- Don’t fucking touch me-” Isaac still kicked and fought desperately, spitting blood and thrashing like a rabid animal, screaming with all the energy he had left. “_Kill me! Kill me you cowards!_” 

Lev still kept his distance, a hand pressed into his bloody neck, staring with wide, astonished eyes. Alyosha, the all powerful being he was, still struggled to move Isaac an inch. 

“Help me you pathetic bastard!” Alyosha growled. Lev reluctantly tried to grab onto Isaac’s legs even as they landed another decent blow on Lev’s face. Despite all of this, they still got control of him. 

Isaac had fought harder than he ever had in his life and the two alphas still managed to force him into the trunk. Isaac did not go easily even then, writhing and snarling all the while. The moment Alyosha let go of him to close the lid, Isaac was halfway out again. Isaac’s vision went black when the top of his new tomb hit his head and Isaac felt even more of his fingers break as they let them get crushed shutting the chest. Isaac reflexively pulled his hand back, disoriented by the additional head trauma, and before he knew it the chest was shut and he could hear the thick metal latches being sealed and if that weren’t enough it was joined by the rattle of chains being wrapped around it. 

“_Let me out! Please just let me out!_” Isaac’s feral rage died into childlike hysteria in an instant, Isaac’s screamed until his throat was raw and then he screamed a little more. Isaac wasn’t even in here just for information, no, if that were true they would’ve let him out in exchange for answers - and Isaac might have actually given them at this point - but they locked him in here to punish him. To punish him for daring to fight back and _win._ Alyosha was only alive because of Isaac’s compassion and they would make sure he paid for it. And here he was, paying for it in ways far worse than he could have imagined. 

_You are never getting out of here._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heads up this chapter gets extra violent, and I'm sure you're probably thinking 'after that messed up nail thing and Isaac biting into someone's neck?!' but yeah. it isn't pretty.  
Also sexual assault is mentioned, it's pretty vague, but I wanted to mention it just in case!

Isaac didn’t adjust to the dark or the walls pressing in inches away from his body. Isaac also found that the height of the chest was shorter than the freezer and that smallness made him flinch every time he moved. The chest was wood and leather, old and too sturdy for Isaac to break through in his drugged state, but it was warmer than the metal of the freezer. Warmer, but still ever so slightly smaller. As if being trapped wasn’t enough. Isaac had never been comfortable in the freezer, but he had known its dimensions and its every groove perfectly. This had all the fear and none of the familiarity.

Isaac felt around blindly for something tangible. There were a few thin holes in the lid, as if stabbed in by a knife. So he wouldn't suffocate. Isaac wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He was calmer now, if no longer screaming counted as calm. Isaac had forgotten how to sit in his helplessness. After all this time he had relearned his instinct to fight, and that made all this empty time harder to bear. Isaac couldn’t move, but Isaac was less worried about how sore he would be when he was finally let out and more worried about how much pain he would be in as the hours continued to pass and he was still stuck there, unable to breathe or calm his racing heart. 

Isaac was never truly calm in the freezer, more like he stopped struggling out of exhaustion. Isaac was exhausted here for sure, but his tolerance for the fear that came with this kind of pain had waned over the years. He had stopped screaming and pleading, but he was still gasping for breath like there wasn’t enough air just as there wasn’t enough room. Isaac found himself still trying to tear through the walls of his prison even as the all too familiar pain of his fingernails tearing was paired with the blood already covering his wounded body. Isaac kept trying, hours spent hurting himself because that was better than being left alone to think about how there was no end in sight and that his entire reality was now contained to the inches of space around him. Even if Isaac could process this reality was not one where his father would let him out only to choke him out, that didn't change that this world was no less painful. And it didn’t help that whenever Isaac moved and brushed too close to the walls of the chest the nails in his skin dug in further. Isaac had already tried taking the nails out, but the process was painful and the wounds didn’t heal or stop hurting. He was relatively confident that if he were to take out all of the nails he would begin to bleed out in a few hours. He wasn’t sure if that would be a less painful way to die. 

Isaac had to distract himself, to disassociate from where he was and the unyielding hysteria which came with it. 

Isaac had won. He had almost killed Alyosha, the greatest danger to his loved ones on this continent, and Isaac had even maimed him. Isaac hoped the bastard would be blind in that eye forever. He had gone down fighting. That had to offer him some solace, but he couldn’t feel much pride dying in the exact same way he had thought he would as a kid. Isaac had spent years convinced there would come a day when that freezer would kill him, but after he had left that life Isaac had never considered it would come back to torture him again. 

_Think about something else. Think about something else you dumbass. Don’t think about the walls. Don’t think about how close they are. Don’t think about how you’re never going to see the sun again..._

Isaac had maimed Alyosha _and_ forced him out of his head. Now that was still impressive, but a bit more confusing to Isaac. It was clear that Alyosha had gotten the idea of locking him in here from Isaac’s trap when the man was in his head, but Isaac didn’t know how it had worked so well. Alyosha had overcome the kanima venom for christs sake, and he couldn’t find a way into a memory where Isaac’s dad had let him out of the freezer? 

And then there was the aftermath. Alyosha’s rage had made perfect sense, but his explanation still threw Isaac. What the fuck was an _unmarked alpha?_ Isaac had to be missing something in translation. Isaac was most definitely not an alpha. Isaac was an omega now, right? He hadn’t had a pack years. But Scott was still his alpha. Even if he wasn’t Scott’s beta, even if he wasn’t a part of his pack, Isaac would be loyal to him no matter what happened. 

_Oh._

An epiphany hit him in such away that despite all of his terror, trapped in a chest, still bleeding, still waiting to die, Isaac laughed. After all this time and distance, Scott had still been the one to save him. _Unmarked._ Untainted by bloodshed, unmarked by blue eyes and then red. A true alpha, or the Russian equivalent, anyway. Isaac still didn’t fully understand the logic, how his connection to Scott would stop Alyosha from breaking through, if maybe that connection to a stronger alpha rendered Alyosha's own skill obsolete or if it was a matter of psychology, Isaac's loyalty to someone stronger meant Alyosha couldn't bully his mind into submission. Not that he would ever get answers, not here with the walls still pressing in and the only future ahead of him no less suffocating. And he supposed the logic didn’t matter. 

Scott had saved him again. And Isaac held onto this revelation through tears that were less hysteria and more longing for someone he feared he would never see again. 

If even here, in this strange parody of Isaac’s personal hell, Scott McCall could be connected to him in some way, surely Isaac could survive this. Surely he could at least die here with some semblance of peace. 

And this thought kept him sane as the hours continued to pass. 

When Isaac finally heard movement outside of his tomb, he wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or apprehensive. Whatever was coming next would be just as committed to breaking him, but at least he wouldn’t be in a 2x4 box. That didn’t mean Isaac wasn’t flinching at every sound, curling inward as much as he could as he could barely move. Isaac hit the back of the chest as a bang against the side left him covering his ears and cowering like he was still 15 and waiting for his dad to beat him senseless again. Another bang. It continued, over and over, the sound far too sharp in his ears. 

Isaac flinched as metal clattered together. _What the fuck are they doing?_ Was this just another way to torment him while keeping him locked up? The same pattern repeated. A series of dull bangs against the side of the chest, followed by metal falling. And finally, the sound of the chains shifting on top of the chest before falling to the ground. Isaac felt a pang of desperate hope that he wasn’t lying to himself, that this meant- 

“Oh my god- Sasha-” Isaac felt weak with relief as the lid finally opened and Isaac could breathe the cold air of the bunker and see the dull lights of the hallway, Sasha standing over him. Isaac’s first instinct was to hold onto Sasha and take in the fact that he was there and _real_ and Isaac was out of that cage and he could move again, he could _breathe_\- Then, wariness. “What’re you doing here?” Isaac struggled to his feet, stumbling and still flinching when Sasha grabbed onto his arm to support him. 

Sasha looked even paler and haggard, fear and exhaustion weighing on him in a manner so different to whatever anxiety he had before all of this. He looked Isaac over with growing horror, staring at the blood on his hands from simply holding onto Isaac’s arm. “What’d they do to you?” 

Isaac pulled away, despite standing on his own aching and numb legs a challenge without Sasha’s support, because how could he trust this? “What’re you doing here?” Isaac backed further away. “Did they send you?” 

“What-” Sasha frowned, reaching out to steady Isaac once more before thinking better of it and instead taking a step back. “I-” Sasha sighed, seeming to struggle with something internally for a moment. “You… you were right. Alyosha- he’s… He’s not what I thought he’d be.” 

“When’d you figure that out?” Isaac grew sarcastic, bitter and powerless, it was all he could think to do. His words felt weaker as his voice was cracked and hoarse after so many hours screaming for someone to let him out, but that didn't stop him from tearing into the only target he had. “Before or after he had Lev kill Nikita?” Sasha was silent. “Or is it once they killed Tanya? I mean, I assume she’s dead too since she’s stopped putting nails in me.” 

“They’re _dead?_” Sasha said, eyes wide. “What do you mean Lev killed Nikita?!” 

Isaac looked him over now, still unwilling to trust that somehow something okay might still happen to him. He listened to Sasha’s racing heart, saw the way he winced looking at Isaac’s blood. Sasha had his coat on. Isaac looked to the ground where the latches on the chest had been broken off and the chain had been torn open. 

“Sasha, what’re you doing here?” Isaac asked once again, a strange desperation joining his anxiety, because how the hell could he have gotten this lucky after everything? 

“I- I’m here to get you out,” Sasha managed to speak, still seemingly taken aback by what Isaac had told him. “I had no idea… why would Alyosha have him kill Nikita?” 

“You’re gonna get me out?” Isaac focused on that. There wasn’t any other good reason for Sasha being here, but Isaac still didn’t fully believe him. “And how’re you gonna do that?” 

“Well, I-I assumed the same way you got those hunters out, right?” Sasha asked halfheartedly. It seemed he hadn’t planned that far ahead. He noticed Isaac’s continuing doubt with a sigh. “Look, if you want me to explain some things or whatever, we can do that once you’re safe.” 

Isaac said nothing. Sasha wasn’t questioning him or pushing him away or trying to defend the pack here, he was fully committed to saving Isaac and saving Isaac only. Not to say Isaac wasn’t relieved, but surely it meant something bad had happened to have snapped Sasha out of it. As he had said, they could explain once they were far away from here. 

“I can’t really move,” Isaac said, feeling some deja vu as that was almost exactly what Leo had told him just a few days ago. 

“Well, once we get those… erm, nails out…” Sasha grimaced staring at Isaac’s many injuries. 

“Tanya drugged me. I’m not healing.” 

“Oh,” Sasha clearly wanted to ask for more information, but pushed onwards. “I am going to get you out of here, Isaak. Even if I have to drag you out.” 

“Can you just…” Isaac winced. He hated asking for help. “Can you just keep me steady? Otherwise, I think my legs might give out, I haven’t moved in a while.” 

Sasha looked so disturbed on his behalf that Isaac’s final misgivings faded, but the fact that he might actually be leaving this place felt so foreign. “I’ve got you, Isaak. And I’m getting you out of here.” Isaac looked into Sasha's determined eyes, willing himself to believe that he was getting out of here. Even if that reality refused to surface, Isaac would go along with it before someone tried to put him back in that box. After a pause, the two of them just staring at each other, Sasha continued. “But first, you’ve got to tell me how to get you out of here. Like, where the hell am I taking you?” 

Isaac laughed even as the act made his chest ache, “if you keep me standing, I can get us out of here.” 

It was late into the night, it had to be. They were out of the bunker and into the dark in an instant, making slow progress away from the house and all the danger that came with it. Sasha was half dragging him along and each step was painful on every wound in Isaac’s body and his strength felt severely limited as the drugs, however diluted, left him shaky and weak. Isaac was too worn down to be hyper aware of all the potential for violence lurking in these woods. But the house was out of sight now, and they were passing the last cabins, passing the pit of bodies, and moving deeper into the woods. Isaac finally had a flicker of hope, thinking that just maybe he would make it out of here alive. He would get to see Scott again. 

That thought was immediately followed by Isaac and Sasha tumbling to the ground, a familiar beast on top of them. Boyra had continued to patrol the woods, and now his teeth were in Isaac’s shoulder. 

Isaac could barely move. The nails in his arm were now stabbing into the earth, his shoulder was excruciating, tendons tearing and Isaac helpless and too weak to even scream. He had almost made it. That didn’t exactly comfort him knowing that Boyra would likely tear him apart while he was still alive. 

No words, only an inhuman snarl and that weight was removed, Isaac gasped as those teeth were torn from his skin, but he could at least get off the ground and back away from the fight now breaking out. Isaac, underneath all the adrenaline and confusion, felt himself reevaluate how he viewed Sasha. He had compared Sasha to an elf when he fully turned, but now he saw something truly wild and inhuman, something truly _wolfish_ in him, he was absolutely _vicious_ in a fight. Sasha was on Boyra’s back, his claws sinking in and latching on so try as he might Boyra couldn’t force him off even as Sasha bit down on Boyra’s neck. 

It was like the full moon, both of them leaving their humanity behind in their bloodthirst and desperation. Sasha held on with just his teeth and reached under Boyra’s arms to claw at the man’s chest, reaching up to try and tear out his throat. Boyra was spitting and growling and struggling to reach the furious creature clinging to his back. He eventually slammed his back into a tree, causing Sasha to lose his grip, just for a second, but long enough that Boyra could tear him off and send him tumbling into the dirt. 

_Gotta help him…_ Isaac clung to the tree behind him, trying to get to his feet and get his bearings but finding it increasingly difficult to stand. Isaac’s center of gravity felt unsteady and he realized it was because his right arm was hanging at an awkward angle from his side. It seemed that Boyra had dislocated his shoulder in the attack. Isaac wasn’t sure why it didn’t hurt. Why the nails in his body didn’t feel so distracting anymore and why the fight still raging a few yards away was growing fuzzier in his vision… 

_Focus, goddamnit- Sasha needs you,_ Isaac knew shock was hitting him -unsurprising after the amount of abuse his body had been through in the past days -but now was _not_ the time to shut down. 

Not to say Sasha was in desperate need of help, as the moment he hit the ground he had vaulted himself back up, pushing off the ground with enough force to throw Boyra back into the dirt with him. Sasha was on top of him, weighing far less than the man, but able to keep him down as Boyra was more occupied in stopping Sasha from tearing his face open that he hadn’t yet had a free hand to shove the boy off of him. Boyra finally managed to roll over and get Sasha underneath him, but Sasha didn’t even give him the opportunity to land a blow as instead of even bothering with hands to shove Boyra off, Isaac watched in slight horror and slight awe as Sasha got close enough to bite into Boyra’s face, his fangs engaging in a morbid pantomime of a kiss on the cheek where instead Sasha bit into him, his bottom fangs digging up into the soft underside of Boyra’s chin and his top canines tearing into Boyra’s cheek. 

_Holy shit,_ Isaac forgot his initial goal of trying to help Sasha as he instead watched on in shock as Sasha tightened his grip and tore out. _Jesus fucking christ,_ Isaac did not pity Boyra, but disgust and horror was an understatement as Sasha _ripped his jaw off._

Boyra had to be goddamn invincible because his jaw was now hanging vertical with his neck, blood gushing down onto Sasha’s chest, and he _still_ had the strength to wrap his hands around Sasha’s throat. Sasha, spitting blood and kicking viciously, could just barely not reach Boyra’s face with his claws. 

Isaac with no strength or time to think, staggered forward, throwing his bodyweight against Boyra just enough to take pressure off of Sasha’s throat. At which point Sasha clawed at Boyra’s face once more. Boyra must have had some semblance of self preservation because he jerked back before Sasha could fully separate his jaw from his face. Isaac was on the ground, his legs tangled with Boyra’s keeping them both immoble, giving Sasha the chance to bash Boyra over the head with something, leaving the werewolf limp on the ground. 

Sasha dropped the now bloodied rock and instead offered Isaac a hand. 

“Thanks,” Isaac said, breathless and stunned, staring at Boyra’s unconscious - or dead - body without full comprehension. “You’re a little terrifying, Sasha.” 

“You’re welcome?” Sasha somehow managed to look sheepish and embarrassed with his face - and fangs - covered in blood. “Come on. He’s not getting back up.” 

“Understatement of the year…” 

Sasha pulled Isaac’s arm back around his shoulder and they resumed their slow pace through the dark as if nothing had happened. 

Isaac’s right shoulder was definitely dislocated and the pain all over his body came and went in waves, a mixture of shock and drifting consciousness keeping him from fully experiencing how tattered his body had become. 

“Do I just keep going this way?” Sasha asked. 

Isaac squinted into the dark. He was all turned around. Boyra had jumped them and in the fight he couldn’t remember which way they had come from. 

“Do you… do you know which way the house is?” Isaac asked. 

“Erm,” Sasha turned back to Boyra’s unmoving body. “I think that way.” 

“Then go the opposite. Just try and make it to the road,” Isaac was too tired to care if they ended up going the wrong way. His goal was to stay conscious enough that Sasha wasn't stuck dragging around his half dead body. Even if he didn’t survive the journey, he just needed to make sure he didn’t hold Sasha back. And maybe if he could stay alive just a little while longer he could tell his friends Sasha was one of the good guys, since he had a feeling Sasha dragging his bloody body out of the woods might make them suspicious otherwise. 

Both of their legs were bloodied by thorns and this time Isaac was the one who couldn’t heal from it, but just like before, he thought he could see the moonlight brightening ahead. The road. Sasha saw the same change and quickened the pace, almost carrying Isaac now. This time there was no one shouting out a warning in French, there were no blinding headlights. 

“Okay, now what?” Sasha asked as they stared at the empty stretch of road extending in either direction. “Isaak, now what?” 

Isaac kept looking in both directions as if expecting something to change. “We’re… we’re not where I came out before… we must’ve gotten turned around when Boyra…” 

“Okay, but we made it to the road, so, we can’t be that far off, right?” Sasha pulled Isaac further onto his shoulder, which did help as Isaac was bordering on deadweight if not for Sasha keeping him on his feet. 

“They might not even be here…” Isaac was growing more and more pessimistic. Sasha had killed a man - probably - and they were still going to die out here. 

“What- What do you mean? Who’re we supposed to be meeting here, anyways?” Sasha was growing panicked. “God… we’re gonna die out here, I didn’t even ask what the plan was- what was I _thinking_? Fuck- you weren’t planning on coming out here to ask the Solovyovas for help, were you? Just because you saved a couple of them doesn’t mean they won’t shoot us dead.” 

“No, no, I’m not suicidal,” Isaac wasted more energy trying to reassure him when really he should be trying to figure out which direction they needed to go. “We’re supposed to meet the Argents…” 

“_What?_” Sasha almost dropped him. “Are you serious?!” Sasha kept holding onto him, but he looked at Isaac with more suspicion now. “You didn’t just let those hunters go, did you?” 

“No,” Isaac refused to look at him, instead looking down the road, wishing somehow his friend’s headlights would appear. 

“Christ… I don’t know anything about you, do I?” Sasha phrased it as a question but seemed resigned to already knowing the answer. “So, either I trust you and risk getting shot at by the Argents, or I turn around so the Volos can kill me instead.” 

“They won’t shoot us,” Isaac said. “I’d be more worried about freezing to death right now.” 

“Great. A _third_ option.” 

“I think… I think they’d be that way,” Isaac looked to the left. 

“Unless we turned too far up and they’re down the road instead,” Sasha snapped. 

“No, I think… I think that they were more north,” Isaac stared at the halfmoon starting to set on the horizon, thinking back on that same sight only a few days ago when he had finally made it back to his friends. “What’ve we got to lose?” 

“Not enough,” Sasha sighed, but he continued to support Isaac’s weight and followed his instructions as they staggered down the road. 

They kept going like this for maybe another half hour, nothing existing but the dark treeline to either side and the empty road ahead, and the two of them taking each step together at a slow, limping pace. 

“Stop, stop,” Isaac was in so much pain and no one, not even a passing car, had showed up on this stretch of road. “I don’t think they’re here…” 

“What do you mean? You- You _sent_ people to them, you let me take you out here and we’ve been walking- what was supposed to happen?!” Sasha was growing more panicked now. 

“I told them to give me a few days to get you out… and it hasn’t even been two… they might not be coming for few days more,” Isaac slid out of Sasha’s grip, collapsing to the ground, curing in on himself and cradling his dislocated shoulder. “Maybe I just got us lost, I dunno…” Had Isaac really thought his friends would camp out in the middle of dangerous territory for a week waiting for him? Had he _really_ thought that he would get lucky enough to stumble through the dark to their car _again?_ Isaac was going to die out here. And now he feared Sasha would too. 

Sasha hesitated, pacing from foot to foot, staring helplessly down either end of the road, before hitting the ground beside him, sitting there with his head in his hands, falling victim to Isaac’s bloodloss melancholy as the world remained empty around them. 

“I’m so sorry, Sasha… I didn’t think this through, I thought- I really thought-” Isaac was too dehydrated to start crying now, but it was just so fucking unfair. He was probably only a few kilometers from his friends, or in four days they would show up only to find his body, and nothing but timing and distance were against him now and that was still enough to kill him. Isaac had really convinced himself that the moment he was out of that box everything would somehow get easier for him. “You should… you should run. Make sure Boyra’s dead and go back to the house… No one needs to know…” 

Sasha laughed almost hysterically, he fell back, laying on the ground beside him. “I can’t _go back._ You think I would still be here after you told me the plan was to meet up with hunters? I mean, I don’t know what I thought the plan was, but still… leaving with hunters… let alone _living_ with them after all this… I think the fuck not.” 

A pause, Isaac expecting him to continue, him doing no such thing. It was getting colder now. And Isaac was so tired. But they had nothing left to do but talk. “So, why’re you still here?” 

Another pause, Sasha staring up at the sky, Isaac staring at him. “Alyosha… you were right. The stuff you told me about him, I didn’t want to believe it, but-” Sasha stopped and Isaac was growing more and more worried. “Wait.” Not the way he expected Sasha to continue. “What’d you mean when you said you thought it would only take a few days to _get me out?_” 

“Oh,” Isaac frowned, knowing that Sasha was going to start blaming himself because it was exactly what Isaac would have done. “I went back because of what my friends told me about Alyosha. I… I didn’t want him to hurt you.” 

“Oh.” 

Isaac couldn’t make out Sasha’s expression and Sasha didn’t immediately offer his thoughts. So he kept going. “I don’t regret it, okay? I don’t care if you didn’t choose to run away when I told you to, because then Boyra would’ve stopped both of us.” 

“Thank you,” Sasha continued to surprise him. “I- I know I should feel bad, I know it would’ve been better if you’d just never come back but- Thank you. I… I didn’t have a way out before.” 

Isaac struggled to sit up so he could look Sasha in the eye, “Sasha, did he hurt you?” 

“What does it matter anymore?” Sasha got up as well if only to turn away from him. “Not like you can do anything about it.” 

“That’s a yes, then,” Isaac knew he sounded angry but he wasn’t sure if it was with Alyosha or himself for failing to convince Sasha to run sooner. 

“Look, it wasn’t that bad, compared to what you were talking about, it didn't get anywhere near that bad for me,” Sasha continued to wave him off, pacing on the edge of the dirt road. “I was only alone with him for a few minutes. And before that, he, well, he told Nikita that it was pathetic to have me around if I couldn’t even fight for them, and that freaked me out a little, because Nikita seemed to really take it to heart, and I thought that meant Nikita might kick me out or something, and Alyosha- he- he felt me up and pushed me against a wall, kept on _touching_ me, but I guess he had more important stuff to do, because he stopped when Nikita came back, and I wasn’t even planning on running for it when that happened, I was hoping I could just ignore it, move on like normal, but then Nikita asked me about _you_ and I found out what they did to you and I knew I had to get us the hell away from here-” 

“Sasha,” Isaac managed to get to his feet, staggering slightly, and reached out to take Sasha’s hand. “You weren’t gonna leave after that?” He asked it despite understanding the answer all too well. So many people had asked him why he didn’t just _leave_ his father’s house like it had ever been that simple. Sasha had a place to sleep and no one was actively trying to kill him, so until it got that bad, he would just try and get through it. 

“I told you it _doesn’t matter._ I _did_ leave and look where it got us,” Sasha didn’t pull away but he clearly had no intention of talking about this. 

“Well, I’d rather die out here than down there, so. Thanks for that,” Isaac had stopped bleeding now from everywhere except the bite on his shoulder but even that had slowed. He was healing, if only at a human pace. So maybe he wouldn’t bleed out, but there was a deceptive chill in the air which right now just meant discomfort but the longer they spent out here the more dangerous it would become. 

“What do we do now?” Sasha, after so much ferocity and courage up until this point, finally looked small. 

“Do you want to just sit with me? Until the sun comes up?” Isaac could think of nothing else to offer, especially as the sunrise had never felt more distant. 

They returned to the ground once more, their shoulders touching and their hands still locked together. And Isaac thought of Scott. This time not out of longing or guilt, but rather a goodbye. Isaac would have to make peace with the hand he had to hold and with the reunions which would never come. So Isaac would just focus on the fact that he could see the stars, that he could breathe above ground, and he could at least die in the company of someone kind.


	19. Chapter 19

Isaac was slipping. He didn’t remember collapsing against Sasha’s shoulder or hitting the ground, but all he knew was Sasha was shaking him.

“Come on, _come on,_ Isaak. Do _not_ pass out on me,” Sasha sounded hysterical, but Isaac was finding it difficult to focus on his face. 

Isaac wanted to tell Sasha he was okay. That they would be fine. But Isaac couldn’t seem to get the words out, he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t even move. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

Sasha cradled his head on his lap, having given up on shaking him awake. “I- I can’t help you. There’s nothing I can do, you’re not healing, but you’re not bleeding anymore, so please _please_ stay with me,” Sasha’s voice grew shakier and more distant in Isaac’s head. Sasha was crying. Isaac was brought back to reality by tears hitting his face as Sasha could do nothing more than hold him. “I… I don’t want to die alone…” 

Isaac’s eyes wanted so badly to close. He just wanted to _rest_. Isaac fought the pull of unconsciousness the best he could, but it felt too easy to let go with Sasha gently brushing through his hair, unable to do anything more to help. Sasha held onto his good arm, the other hanging at an unnatural angle from his dislocated and bloody shoulder, and Isaac felt his pain ebb away. It was strange, after so much time spent taking the pain of others he had forgotten that someone could do the same for him. 

Now there was less pain to keep him in focus, but Sasha was moving. He stood and picked Isaac up underneath his arms, mumbling an apology as Isaac’s shoulder was tugged on roughly. Isaac was confused, he had no idea what Sasha was doing, but he was helpless to ask or stop him. Sasha dragged him as far as the treeline, just out of sight of the road. Not enough that if a werewolf passed him in the woods wouldn’t hear his heartbeat, but enough that a passing car wouldn’t pick him out. 

“I’ll be back, okay? I promise and this might get us both killed- well, what do you care, you’re dying anyways,” Sasha sighed. “One last try.” Sasha was gone. Isaac was alone on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Russia simply waiting to die. He was so cold. There was no sign of the sunrise coming, but the stars were pretty enough. They wouldn’t stop him from freezing to death, but it was an incredible sight to die with. Maybe if Isaac really tried he could get back on his feet, but he couldn’t think of a reason to bother. 

Then: 

“_Help! Somebody, please help us!_” Sasha was screaming now, down the road a ways, Isaac could hear him begging the empty sky and the endless stretch of road with a desperation that seemed to tug at Isaac’s wounds, pulling him back to the waking world. Sasha was going to get himself killed. “_We’re here! Someone help us!_” Did he really think if he shouted loud enough things would turn out okay? If anything, his screaming was going to bring the whole Volos down on them. 

“Sasha…” Isaac finally got a word out after hours of focusing on just breathing. He struggled to sit up, supporting most of his weight on a neighboring tree. He contemplated trying to stand before deciding against it. “Don’t…” Isaac wasn’t afraid for himself, he was dead anyway, but his friend still had a chance. He just needed to keep his mouth shut and start walking until he hit a town, Isaac would be no better off struggling to walk for miles only to die somewhere else as he would be dying here. Sasha wouldn’t even have to wait for him to stop breathing, Isaac could live with - _die_ with - lying here knowing his friend made it. Isaac wasn’t going to drop dead any minute, it wasn’t quite that bad yet, but he also wouldn’t survive the long walk back to civilization. 

A moment of quiet, Isaac thinking Sasha had finally given up, and when he returned Isaac would try and convince him to run again. 

Instead, “_Argents! We’re fucking here, come on! You said you would come back for him! Where the fuck are you?!_” That desperation was replaced by rage, Sasha not only voicing that anger, but actively calling out to the Argents. For a boy who had spent his life terrified of hunters, he didn’t seem afraid now. 

Isaac heard something. And it wasn’t the Argents. Footsteps so careful and calculating that no one with human ears could make them. Fear returned to him immediately. He refused to go back underground. A cold rush flooded his veins that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Isaac’s defiant will to die on his own terms and not let anyone touch Sasha. Isaac wanted to warn him, but he didn’t trust himself to shout loud enough, especially as Sasha was still busy screaming abuse at the Argents. More likely, Isaac would manage to get the attention of the Volos creeping through the woods and they would slit his throat before going after Sasha. So Isaac fought to just get to his feet and watched and waited. Isaac knew his current spike in adrenaline was temporary and once this passed he would crash hard, but until then he would use this strength to inflict as much damage as he could. 

A stranger stepped out of the treeline first, a man Isaac would have struggled to take on even if he wasn’t wounded, and he was followed by two more. Any chance of Sasha being able to take them on himself died. Isaac was standing now, his good arm clinging to a tree, and his focus entirely on the trio heading up the road towards his friend. They had come out of the woods behind him and would pass him any second. If Isaac wanted even a chance of hiding, he would need to fall back into the brush fast, and even then his heartbeat, which was still fighting on despite everything, would give him away. 

There was no point in pretending this was a survivable encounter. 

Isaac was still struggling to shift, he had a feeling there was no way to metabolize wolfsbane and he would be this out of it until he was given a cure, and with only one good arm anyway his only weapon was himself. With a hoarse shout, Isaac slammed himself into the biggest target like he was bodychecking someone at a lacrosse game. Isaac actually got the guy on the ground, but that was about as far as he made it as he felt pain shudder through his wounded shoulder and he hit the ground hard. The man was so surprised by him though that Isaac managed to shout, “_run!_” before he was being strangled in the dirt. 

“Isaak!” Sasha did take off running, directly at him and the three werewolves attacking him. So long ago Sasha had fled from the hunters, leaving Isaac to his fate, but now he refused to leave, preferring to run into a fight he couldn’t win than let Isaac get away from him again. 

Isaac was only vaguely aware of his friend throwing himself into danger, Isaac was more focused on trying to pry this werewolf’s hands off of his throat. Sasha was stopped from trying to help him by the other two, one who ran to meet Sasha and tackled him to the ground, claws already out, and the other which took over after Sasha slashed into her friend’s face. 

Sasha’s apparently brutal ability to fight other werewolves was enough to fend off one of them easily, it was the two of them together which held him back. Isaac could only hear the snarls and sounds of skin tearing and bodies hitting the earth, all of his focus was locked on trying to pull the hands from his throat, on blue eyes leering over him and fangs too close for comfort. Isaac, with far more effort than his wounded body should have been capable of, kneed the man between the legs hard enough that his children would feel it. The man flinched back enough that Isaac could kick him off. At which point he had to actually crawl to put some distance between them with his one good arm scrambling for enough stability to actually get on his feet so maybe he would have a _chance_ to defend himself. 

As if. 

Isaac was being dragged back by his ankle and despite kicking viciously the bastard had his claws on him again, dragging more wounds down his back. It seemed he didn’t take kindly to Isaac fighting back. Why didn’t they just snap his neck? He was already pathetically weak, why did they have to prolong it? 

Isaac could see to his left Sasha was also on the ground, it taking both of his attackers to hold him there as he was still fighting back viciously. His face was covered in blood, a cut across his face over his eye and a tear through his cheek. His arms were bleeding too, as the woman holding them to the ground was digging her claws in deep, the other man pressing all his weight on Sasha’s legs to stop him from kicking them off. 

Isaac didn’t have time to feel sorry for his friend as his own adversary pinned his arms behind his back, Isaac screamed, his voice ragged and punctuated by desperate gasps for air, as the werewolf carelessly pulled at his wounded arm, his grip keeping Isaac trapped on the ground easily. This entire encounter had happened in an instant, Isaac had so little fight left in him and Sasha hadn’t had a chance against these odds. This hadn’t been a fight, it had been a neutralization. It still felt like a failure. 

“You’re wanted alive,” the man on top of him bothered to explain why he hadn’t gone so far as to tear Isaac’s limbs off, “can’t say as much for your friend over there,” of course. This little scrap of conversation was only intended to make Isaac pay before he was dragged back to that hole in the ground to die. 

Isaac didn’t care about what threats this man offered as he took him away, he didn’t care about the fate that awaited him or the violence that would be inflicted on him before that fate came – maybe he would later, but right now all Isaac cared about was the sight of Sasha struggling on the ground. Time felt slow, hollow, everything sapped of control as Isaac could only watch as Sasha bled. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was because the two werewolves holding him were too preoccupied keeping him down to try and kill him. It wouldn’t last, eventually Sasha would tire and they would have the leeway to slit his throat. 

Headlights reflected off of claws and blue eyes, a hand poised to stop Sasha’s struggling permanently, but they were stopped by a hail of bullets and a spray of blood, the werewolf dying in the air, her body jolting with each shot before hitting the ground. Isaac cried out as his attacker went limp on top of him, crushing his wounded arm. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, the dead man on top of him was still bleeding, slowly without a heart pumping his blood, which now mixed with Isaac’s and pooled in the dirt. Sasha was underneath the bodies of the other two as well, he was also unmoving. Isaac had been too focused on the woman about to kill him to see if any bullets had hit his friend. 

“S-Sasha…” Isaac couldn’t move, people were coming up behind him and Isaac knew that it had to be the Solovyovas. The Argents surely wouldn’t have open fired so recklessly, and besides, Isaac would never have gotten that lucky. The Solovyovas would move the bodies, see that they were werewolves and still alive, and would kill them too. Isaac flinched as someone dragged the corpse off of him and then started to lift him up. “Let me go- Let go of me-” Isaac stumbled over his words, the most fight he could offer was just pulling away from the hands on him. 

“Isaac-” 

“Stop- Leave me alone- Leave me-” 

“Isaac!” The man holding him shook him gently, just enough to get him to focus. 

“D-Derek?” Isaac’s panic turned to confusion as that strong jawline and broad shoulders stood out to him. The eyebrows were off. “_Simon?_ What’re you- Why’re you-” 

“Hey, you’re okay,” Simon looked just as shaken by the sight of him. “We’ve got you now. Okay? We’ve got you.” The stability of a familiar face and French words intended to calm helped Isaac steady, but he had bigger concerns than his own safety. 

“Where’s Sasha? My friend- He’s-” Isaac stumbled further down the road, looking for a third body. 

“Slow down, Isaac. Please, just take a minute,” Simon tried to stop him. 

Ahead, one of the figures on the ground started thrashing wildly. 

“Hey! Calm down- I’m not gonna hurt you- Fucking hell, stop trying to claw at me-” Another familiar voice quickly jumped away from Sasha who was making a good effort to tear David open. 

“Maybe try Russian,” Isaac managed some sarcasm towards his old rival as he reached out to Sasha, who was still trying to get away from the hunter with a gun on him. “Sasha, it’s okay, they’re friends.” 

Sasha held onto Isaac’s arm, both to keep Isaac on his feet and to ground himself in the innate fear that came with being surrounded by hunters. Isaac noticed that Sasha placed himself just in front of Isaac instead of behind him, putting himself between Isaac and the two Argents. “_Friends?_ Really?” Sasha scoffed, looking particularly wary of David who still had a gun at his side. 

“Well, mostly,” Isaac said wryly, looking at David with more than a little surprise. Isaac returned to French with little effort. “Didn’t expect you to be here.” 

“Well, just graduated, thanks to you,” David shrugged. “Needed an excuse to get out and do something.” 

“Where’s Romy? Jeanie? Are they okay?” Isaac turned to Simon. 

“They’re fine, they’re planning the attack,” Simon seemed to want to help Isaac but one look at how frightened and territorial Sasha was made him reconsider. 

“Attack?” Isaac, his wounds temporarily forgotten, grew sharp. “No, they can’t just go storming in there, there’re _kids_ back there-” 

“Isaac, just take a minute, you’re hurt,” Simon’s main concern was still the fact that Isaac was covered in blood and his arm was clearly not where it was supposed to be. 

“No- _you_ need to listen to me, there are kids there, families- it’s not just killers, you can’t just go in there, they’ll have to defend themselves,” Isaac knew he was growing more hysterical and his vision felt fuzzy around the edges, but he couldn’t let his friends do this, not after all he had done to prevent more harm. 

“You’re gonna pass out,” David added helpfully. 

“_You_ can shut up, and _you_, Simon, are going to- you’re going to…” Isaac was back on the ground, and then he was dead to the world. 

The ground was moving. That was Isaac’s first thought when he came to, his second thought was someone was holding his hand. Isaac opened his eyes. He was in the back of a van, on a mat on the floor, and Sasha was beside him, their hands interlocked. Sasha’s wounds had healed and he seemed to be sleeping now. Isaac also realized with some relief that his own injuries were bandaged and healing and he could now move his right arm. He sat up, slowly as his head still felt fuzzy, but his hand remained with Sasha’s. 

“Hey, American,” a familiar voice pulled him away. Romy looked exhausted. She was uninjured, which surprised him since the last thing he remembered was Simon telling him they were planning an attack. Romy had never been one to sit on the sidelines. 

“What… what happened?” Isaac frowned, looking around the van carefully. Simon was driving, David beside him. Jeanie wasn’t there. 

“You got all worked up and fainted like the precious little prince you are,” she teased, but Isaac couldn’t remember the last time she looked that _concerned._

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked. His voice was still hoarse. 

“Are _you?_” A pause, Romy getting off the bench along the wall of the van and instead sitting cross-legged in front of him. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a part of my plan,” Isaac hoped his sarcasm would let Romy know he was alright, that he was still him. “No, but really- what happened?” Isaac looked to Sasha, surprised that his friend managed to sleep in a van with three hunters. 

“You know, your buddy was a little hard to handle,” Romy nodded to Sasha. “He freaked out when Simon tried to carry you, wouldn’t let him or David touch you. I mean, didn’t help that Simon’s Russian is terrible.” 

“Better than yours,” Simon called from the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah, well, I met up with the boys and convinced him to let us try and actually help you-” 

“_Convinced,_ very funny, Romy. You shoved him and shouted _back the fuck off and let me help my best friend or I’ll kill you_, not exactly subtle,” David scoffed. “Even better considering you thought yelling at him in _French_ would work.” 

“It worked eventually, didn’t it?” Romy snapped, cheeks now red. 

“Only after Simon translated and pulled you off him…” 

“How about you shut up, David?” Romy said. David had the common sense to stop talking. “Anyways- It took a few tries but eventually Simon figured out the guy was trying to explain you’d been drugged and wouldn’t heal, so David did some wolfsbane chemistry involving like, fire and shit, and bam! You’re healing again! I mean, we had to reset your shoulder, good thing you stayed unconscious for that part, bones make _gross_ noises- and now we’re headed home.” 

“_Home?_ What about the invasion plan? What about Jeanie?” Isaac’s initial fears returned. 

“Jeanie did her part, but the grownups are taking it from here,” Romy explained. 

“You can’t just go storming into that camp-” 

“We know, there’re innocent people there,” Romy finished for him, seeming utterly endeared by his worry. “I’ve missed you, American,” she lost focus for a moment before shaking her head and returning to her story. “We’ve got a plan. David, hate to admit it, but he’s a _really_ good chemist. He made this gas bomb thing that only works as a sedative-” 

“Kind of, I couldn’t make it a full on sedative because if it was strong enough to knock out a grown werewolf it could hurt the pups-” David interrupted before shutting back down after another glare from Romy. 

“We get it, David. You’ve had your come to jesus moment and now you’re engaging in _friendly_ chemical warfare,” Romy continued to tease him. “As I was saying- the plan is to weaken the camp and go in there using sedatives first and bullets only as a last resort. Bhatt and his boyfriend have been reaching out to emissaries in the area and they’re coming on board to help. We’re hoping their presence will help keep things calm-ish and once they realize we’re not with the Solovyovas and we’re trying to _help_ they’ll stop fighting so hard. Hopefully. Maybe,” Romy frowned. “I don’t know, but better than going in guns blazing, right?” 

Isaac was a lot calmer now, but equally stunned. All this violence might actually end with some peace, and Isaac wouldn’t be forced to try and piece together the rubble himself. “David, since Romy won’t say it, thanks. For giving us a way out of this, a _good_ way out,” Isaac finally spoke. 

David turned around, surprised and unsure of how to respond. “Yeah.” An uncomfortably long pause. “Uh. No problem,” he turned back around, apparently unable to cope with continuing the conversation. Isaac was glad as he wasn’t sure what else there was to say. 

“Wait-” Isaac processed the rest of Romy’s explanation. “What’d you mean you aren’t with the Solovyovas?” 

Romy looked like she had expected that question, but hesitated over her answer. “Things have gotten really weird out here.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Well, things with the Solovyovas have been weird for a while now, even before they captured you, we were only really working with them out of necessity. Valerie never agreed with their methods and they don’t really fit in with the new Argent code, but we had to work with them with the Volos running around doing fuck all to slaughter every human they could, but…” Romy was rarely so paused. 

Isaac took a deep breath. “Does this have to do with Scott?” 

“You’re too clever for your own good, American,” Romy half-smiled at that. “Hunters and humans and all of that mess has changed. There’s been an insane movement in the US and their reach has spread fast. They’ve got people in the UK and they’re far too friendly with the Solovyovas and their methodology is fully focused on extermination, not containment.” 

Isaac, after a whole five minutes of actual peace, felt his anxieties returning. “And Scott?” 

“Last we heard from Chris your people are doing okay, but they’re in the thick of it. It all came out of your old town. This you’re not gonna believe- it was fucking _Gerard_ who kickstarted all this bullshit-” 

“_Gerard?_” Isaac thought he must have heard her wrong. “I thought the bastard was dead!” 

“Nope, wait- no- _now_ he’s dead and this other American lady is running it all now, but back months and months ago, Gerard was back in power,” Romy hesitated again, lips pursed, and looking more than a little awkward. “So. You know how when you were outed as a werewolf there was a bit of a fuss over it?” 

Isaac was both concerned and deeply amused. He had missed Romy’s nonsense. “Sure let’s go with that.” 

“Well, a couple, okay, _more_ than a couple Argents tapped out. And apparently they found their way back to good old Gerard. A lot of other hunters have joined, you don’t even know how weird it’s gotten- there are _way_ more hunters now, more humans in general who know about the supernatural, like it’s not making the news or anything, but a whole lot more than there were few years ago,” Romy was emphatic, as if she had been waiting forever to tell him all of this and all things considered she probably had, “so basically, your friend Scott has been fighting off hunters left and right. The _stories_ I’ve been hearing about his pack and Beacon Hills- it’s incredible.” 

Isaac was struck by a terrible mixture of longing and pride. Scott and his pack. Doing the right thing on the other side of the world. Something Isaac hadn’t been a part of. 

“Do all werewolves have perfectly tragic puppy eyes or is that an Isaac Lahey specialty?” Romy noticed the change. She reached out, putting a hand on his recently healed shoulder. “He wanted you there, and now you’re going to be,” such calm sincerity from Romy was a rarity. “If you still want to be, that is. And if you’ll have us, you’ve got all the Argents - the _real_ Argents, not Gerard’s fucking leftovers - on your side. We’re your family and we’re in this together.” 

Isaac was hit by a jarring wave of conflicting emotions. Isaac finally felt safe, and with that waves of trauma, the grief, the panic, the exhaustion, every little detail that came with the aftermath of survival, hit him all at once. “You- You didn’t leave me. You came back,” Isaac’s voice was so soft and cracked and shaky Isaac could do nothing to hide that torrent rushing through him. It was too familiar and so alien all at once. Romy could do nothing but put her arm around him, her head laying against his shoulder. 

Isaac was out. He was still alive and he was going home. 

He was going to see Scott again.


	20. Chapter 20

Isaac was more at ease now. Romy had given him some water, he hadn’t realized how sick he had felt and how sore his throat was until then. She had also bothered to put a blanket around his shoulders, which he didn’t need but appreciated nonetheless. Romy made him laugh by defending it with “I don’t care if you don’t want it. You don’t have a shirt, so you need something to preserve your modesty.”

Romy was still sitting beside him, not talking, just taking apart a handgun and putting it back together again. “You haven’t asked about all this,” Isaac broke the silence, “but I know you want to.” Even though Isaac didn’t explicitly say it, Romy knew that the distinction between Isaac’s condition before he left to rescue Sasha compared to the state he was in when they found him was what he was referring to. It was a drastic - and bloody - change. 

“I didn’t want to push,” Romy looked at the ground and the pieces of the gun in front of her. She seemed _nervous_. Isaac hated that. Romy was never one to worry, she always pushed forward with a stupid quip and zero regard for the details. 

Isaac tried to change that weight of too much darkness between them after the last few days. This was stressful enough without Romy treating him delicately, “since when? What happened to the girl who asked me about my dead girlfriend the _second time_ we hung out?” 

Romy grinned at that, but Isaac knew she wasn’t going to just take all this in stride, “okay fine, do you want to talk about the getting tortured part? Or the almost getting torn apart by werewolves after trying to escape? Or maybe the fact that I’m still a little mad at you for going back in there for the sake of _that_ little whelp,” she nodded to Sasha, still curled up on the floor, “where do you want to start?” 

Isaac shrugged a little, before thinking of something utterly minute but incredibly important to him, “hey, do you think you could ask someone to get something for me? From the camp?” 

“Okay sure, American, but I was more thinking about how me and Simon had to take _nails_ out of your body,” Romy raised an eyebrow before gesturing to over a dozen bloody nails piled on the bench. Yikes. “Jeanie was planning on leaving before all the action, but she could pass it along. What is it?” 

Isaac, staring at the many nails now out of him - had it _really_ been that many? - he took a moment to appreciate his brilliant timing when he fainted. The thought of lying still while his friends dug nails out of him was not something he wanted to experience. He refocused. “So, in the camp, there’s the bunker. I need someone to go down there to one of the cells, it’s the third door down on the right from the main room, and inside of it there is going to be a chair and a table and on the table there’s gonna be a lighter. It’s going to have the letter C engraved on the side. It might not be there,” Isaac took a deep breath, he had to accept that he might have lost one of the only things he had left of his brother. _Why_ had he taken it with him? Isaac had thought he needed something material to hold onto when he left Paris, but now he wished he had kept it safe. “But could you have someone look?” 

“Yeah, sure. I can text Jeanie, I’ll let her know,” Romy was aware of how much this meant to him, but she also had another focus. “Why was it down there? Your lighter?” 

Isaac was still thinking over a response when Simon spoke up instead. 

“They made some of the nails hot, didn’t they?” Simon spoke up from the driver’s seat. “Some of the ones I took out were welded onto your skin.” 

Isaac didn’t want to see Romy’s face in response to that so he kept his eyes locked on the pieces of the handgun Romy was still fiddling with, although now with far less attention as her hands wandered, picking up random bits and putting them back down without any actual intention behind her actions. “It doesn’t matter,” Isaac was tired enough without upsetting his friends further, “the lighter- it’s my brother’s, so. I just want it back.” 

Romy paused, just staring at him. Isaac’s injuries had healed and he looked far less tragic wrapped in a blanket and finally hydrated, but his body and tattered clothes were still smeared with blood. “Why couldn’t you just wait?” Romy was so cautious, so unsure and lacking any of her usual bravado. She asked it partially as a question and partially as an expression of her fears. If it could even be called fear when the terrifying part was over. What was fear in the aftermath, what was fear when there was nothing left to be afraid of? Isaac didn’t know the answer for himself either. Romy kept talking despite both of them knowing it wouldn’t fix anything. “We were going to try and take on the camp, and yes I _know_ you did not want people to get hurt, but we could have figured something out. Why did you have to go running in there without help?” 

Isaac felt a weight in his chest that wasn’t quite guilt, but rather sadness. He never wanted to hurt Romy, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. “Funny, coming from you,” Isaac knew she didn’t expect an apology nor did he think he owed her one, but he wished there was some way to help her. “I’m okay, Romy. You guys got me out of there.” 

“I have told you not to lie to me, American,” Romy sniffed particularly loudly and turned away for a moment. “So- What makes this furious little bastard so special?” Romy, quick to change the subject, nodded to Sasha again. “He hovered the whole time. Didn’t pass out until an hour ago. Started _growling_ when Simon reset your shoulder. Not that I blame him, I was almost growling myself,” she exhaled a little laugh. “The rest healed on its own after David got rid of the poison, but that shoulder?” She shuddered. “Horrifying.” 

Isaac shrugged, “it sucked, but it only got dislocated after we ran for it, so it wasn’t like that for more than a few hours.” No one was comforted by that. Isaac returned to the original question. “I couldn’t let him get hurt. He was the only one there who felt… I don’t know, _real_. I guess. He fell for the propaganda pretty hard early on, but he didn’t want anyone to die, he just wanted to be safe. We… we spent a lot of time together. He saved me in the end. I thought he hated me, I thought I was going to die down there, alone, and then he just showed up, dug me out of a grave, damn near literally.” Isaac held onto Sasha’s hand a little tighter, his thumb drawing circles on Sasha’s palm. “Fought like hell for me too.” 

“Yeah, we noticed. I thought he was gonna tear Simon’s head off,” Romy snorted. 

“He tore someone’s jaw off.” 

“_What?_” Romy looked almost delighted. Isaac wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or not. “That is _insane!_ All the way off? Did he grab it and just pull or what?” 

“Um,” Isaac blinked. Isaac had found the sight utterly horrifying, even if he knew Sasha was justified, but Romy’s response was almost calming after all that. Not normalizing, per say, but it normalized talking about it at least. “No, he ripped it off with his teeth- er, fangs?- whatever- It was just hanging there, he didn’t take it off completely. The real kicker is that didn’t even take the guy down. Sasha had to smash a rock over his head.” 

“And what were you doing, cheering on the sidelines?” She elbowed him playfully. 

“Well, no. The guy who attacked us was the one who tried to fucking tear my arm off,” Isaac’s hand went to his shoulder, healed now, but the echoes of that pain still haunted him like a phantom limb. One problem with magic healing was that his body didn’t know what to do with that sudden lack of injury. Pain was meant to be a response to something being wrong, but things weren’t meant to just go away like that so the pain doesn’t know where to go. “I was a bit busy just trying to stay conscious.” 

“Oh,” was all Romy could think to say. “Guess the little russian boy is worth having around.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh wait-” Romy spoke so loudly and suddenly Isaac jumped and he felt Sasha squeeze his hand, jolting awake. “Yeah, yeah, sorry- I know I’m loud, but-” She reached around her neck. “I’ve got to give you this,” Romy held out his silver claw. 

Isaac took it from her with a strange fondness. It felt like it had been months since he had given it to her instead of days. “Thanks,” Isaac put it back around his own neck, holding onto it until the metal grew warm in his hand. 

“Hey, you might want to give your little friend some reassurance. He looks like he’s about to jump out a window,” Romy leaned forward, nodding at Sasha who had situated himself against the doors as far from Romy and the others as possible. 

“You keep calling him little- you two are the same height- hell, I think he’s taller than you,” Isaac teased her. 

Romy looked offended, “yes but I am fucking _built_,” she flexed without a hint of irony. 

Isaac shook his head, exhaling through his nose in a soft laugh, before turning to Sasha, now more worried than relieved. It was strange to keep switching from language to language, going from French with Simon and David to English with Romy -just out of habit between them, really -and back to Russian for Sasha. If it kept going on like this Isaac was going to start speaking nonsense. “You okay, man?” 

“Are _you?_” Sasha offered instead of an actual answer. 

“Yeah, actually. Or at least better than you,” Isaac referred to the fact that Sasha was currently pushing himself into the wall to get further from the three hunters. 

Sasha stared at Romy, then glancing to Simon and David in the front seat. “And you’re sure they aren’t going to take us back to their little hunter lair to dissect us?” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, only one person in this car has tried to kill me,” Isaac smirked. “Guess which one.” 

Sasha stared at Romy with further suspicion now. “You know, you are not making me feel better,” Sasha moved closer to him. “Do you have any idea how stressful it has been to have these westerners waving around their guns and babbling in French and picking you apart? The tall one- his Russian is _terrible._” 

“I know how you feel,” Isaac said, thinking back on the days where he had been perpetually lost without Romy translating. He grew more serious, “I guess jokes probably weren’t ideal right now- not sure if you’ve noticed, but I have zero tact. Either way, I _promise_ you’re safe, okay? These’re the good guys.” 

“Hunters? Good guys?” Sasha scoffed. “If anyone but you were telling me this… the one with the shitty Russian started to grab you after you passed out and I didn’t know what he was doing, you two had just started arguing in French and I didn’t know if you were friends with them or not, and I thought the other one might get trigger happy, but I had no clue what they were saying and how the hell was I meant to trust them when they had _guns?_ Speaking of-” Sasha paused his ranting. “How the hell do you deal with the _smell?_” 

“The- The smell?” Isaac blinked. 

“Yeah! This whole van reeks of gunpowder and grease and wolfsbane,” Sasha crinkled his nose in disgust. “How does that not set your teeth on edge?” Sasha clearly expected him to relate. 

“You’re gonna think I’m batshit, but,” Isaac shrugged sheepishly, “I kinda think it just smells like home.” 

“Like- Like _home?_” Sasha sputtered. “Guns- and- and _wolfsbane?_” 

“It’s… spicy?” Isaac offered weakly. “Come on, the wolfsbane- it’s just a scent, it’s not enough to _hurt._” 

“_Spicy?_ You _are_ fucking insane, you do know that right?” Sasha was absolutely baffled by him. “When I said I didn’t really know you at all, I had no idea how right I was.” 

“I guess..?” Isaac said. Isaac felt like a weight had been lifted as he could be fully open with Sasha for the first time in all these months. “So, if we’re being honest here, I’m a werewolf, but… I’m a hunter too.” 

“_Ha!_” Sasha laughed loudly enough to get odd looks from Romy and David. “You are insane. Clinically.” 

“I mean, probably,” Isaac was just glad Sasha wasn’t terrified anymore. 

“_Spicy…_ Like fucking Indian food instead of _mace…_” Sasha continued to shake his head disbelievingly. 

“I mean, I tend to think of mexican food, but that’s more for nostalgia reasons,” Isaac bumped shoulders with him lightly, relieved that Sasha had traded panic for bewilderment. It was progress, however little. 

“That’s not any less crazy, you know that, right?” Sasha said. A pause, peace replacing taunts. Eventually Sasha continued. “What do we do now?” Sasha grew far quieter, staring off into space as he weighed the state he was now in. Isaac could understand better than most. 

What could Isaac say? He was fully planning on walking into another warzone, but how could he expect Sasha to follow? How could he expect to leave Sasha _alone_ after all of this? 

“I will make sure you’re safe, okay? My friends- I know these emissaries, they’re good people. They help people like you. But… my friend- My pack- they need me, and it’s gonna be dangerous, but I promise I’ll do what I can to find you again once it’s all over,” Isaac knew he was rambling and wasn’t exactly being concise, but he couldn’t think of what else he could do. 

“You’re… going back to America?” Sasha’s expression was too unreadable for Isaac to figure out if he was angry at Isaac for planning on leaving. “...without me.” 

“I would stay with you if I could, but I need to help them,” Isaac knew it wasn’t enough of an explanation, but he had nothing else to give. 

“And… you want me to go off with some emissaries?” 

“You’ll be safe with them,” Isaac repeated. 

Sasha frowned, looking more somber now. “You don’t want me to go with you.” 

“What? That’s not it at all,” Isaac was confused now. “You… _want_ to come with me?” 

Sasha no longer looked him in the eye, “I understand, you don’t need to explain.” 

“Do you… would you _want_ to come with me? We’ll be fighting hunters, it’ll be just as dangerous- it’ll be _more_ dangerous than hiding in the camp with the Volos.” 

“I… if you’ll let me,” Sasha still hesitated. 

“If you want to come with me, yes. Of course yes.” Isaac wasn’t sure how to feel, but he was bordering on excited even if that didn’t feel appropriate. He needed to be sure. “I thought… I thought you wanted to be safe.” 

Sasha shrugged. “I used to. Now…” Sasha looked to him, and Isaac was surprised by how at ease he seemed. Sasha was always so afraid and uncertain, the only thing Isaac had ever been sure of about Sasha was that he had only ever wanted to be safe. Sasha smiled, “I think I’d rather be with you.” 

“If that’s what you want, I mean… I’d like that,” Isaac was overcome by warmth towards the only light he had had during his time in Russia. “And I mean, not just because you’re my friend- why didn’t you tell me you were such a badass?” 

Sasha’s pale cheeks flushed dark, “ah, well, it’s easier when the enemy doesn’t have guns. Don’t know how much help I’ll be with fighting the hunters.” 

Isaac paused, something coming to mind out of the blue, “I could teach you to shoot.” Sasha stared at him, unable to form a response. “I mean, if you want.” 

“I get it you’re very pro-hunter, but I don’t think I’m there yet,” Sasha shook his head. 

“Well, if you ever are,” Isaac shrugged. “And I could teach you some French too. So you know what’s going on a bit better. Or maybe some more English?” 

“If we’re going to America, I think... English would be best,” Sasha agreed slowly. “If you don’t mind translating the French every once and a while?” Sasha asked with a nervous laugh. 

“I’ve got you,” Isaac repeated the words he felt like he had said far too many times these past months, but he meant it. He wasn’t letting any of his friends go again. No one got left behind. Isaac was tired of leaving people. 

Sasha seemed to grapple with Isaac’s openness, but he moved on. “Well, maybe knowing a little French would be a good idea. Your friends can’t blame me for trying to take them out. All I saw was you yelling at that one guy and I had no clue what you were saying and then you were on the ground. I wouldn’t have let them touch you, but the little one who showed up to help really seemed worried about you. Worried enough to try and tackle me after I nearly tore into the other one, at least.” 

Isaac smirked, amused and fond for both of his friends, “you calling _her_ little… you know she said the same thing about you?” 

Sasha frowned, “have they said anything else about me?” 

“Only that you were pretty intense,” Isaac said. 

“I was worried about you,” Sasha muttered. A pause. “Hunters… I’m in a van with _hunters…_” 

“You coping? Do we need to open a window?” Isaac teased. “Not so you can jump out, though. I haven’t showed you Paris yet.” 

“Oh yeah so we can go back to a house _full_ of hunters,” Sasha sighed. He seemed to want to ask for something more. “I… I don’t know anything about you. Do I?” 

Isaac hesitated, “you know me, Sasha. Maybe not all of it, maybe not my past, but everything we did together? None of that was a lie.” 

Sasha bit his lip, pausing only to cringe and wipe the at the dried blood on his mouth. Isaac still had blood on his face too. He had grown numb to the taste of copper which had been in his mouth since he had fought Lev. Blood everywhere, in fact. Isaac worse than Sasha, but still. They both needed a shower and some actual rest. 

“So what was a lie, Isaak? And… what’s the whole truth?” Sasha held nothing back. 

Isaac moved so he was leaning against the back wall beside Sasha, their shoulders brushing. Isaac pulled the blanket so it covered both of them. “So, I’m guessing you’ve realized I don’t support the Volos.” 

“Hm. I had a feeling,” Sasha was lighter now, but he still deserved answers. 

“I don’t know how much you knew, or know, about the Volos, but they killed a lot of people. Not just hunters, not just bad guys. They killed any humans they had the chance to,” Isaac paused, sighing deeply. Isaac didn’t want to hurt Sasha, but he had to be honest. “You know when we went with Lev and Nikita to stop that hunter family? And when we got there it… it wasn’t what we- or _I_\- thought it would be?” 

“I… I knew that part was wrong, Isaak. You don’t need to tell me it was wrong. I… I assumed they had their reasons, but I know that things went too far,” Sasha agreed. “You were really brave.” 

“Stupid, more like,” Isaac scoffed. “I was trying to stay undercover, and it didn't make a difference in the end anyways. Boyra… when he stayed behind to, you know, clean up and stage the bodies?” Isaac struggled to say it. “He killed that kid.” Sasha said nothing. “It didn’t _matter_ what I said, Nikita just lied to me and the kid died anyways.” 

“I… I didn’t know,” Sasha grew quiet. “I… I can’t believe I thought they were _better_ than the hunters…” 

“It’s not-” Isaac struggled to find a fair way to explain. “It isn’t just one or the other, okay? Hunters and werewolves… it’s not one’s good and the other is bad, it’s… it’s just two different ways of dealing with the world. Both can do the right thing, I mean, that’s… well, that’s why I’m still here.” 

“So, all those questions you asked and stuff, that was to get information?” Sasha asked, but he continued before Isaac could answer, “well, obviously that was why, I- I don’t need an explanation for all that. I think considering what the Volos did to you, you shouldn’t have to justify any of that to anyone.” 

“Okay… so what does that leave?” 

“Tell me about America. Tell me about Paris. Tell me about all of them,” Sasha nodded to the other three in the van. “Tell me about your pack.” 

Isaac didn’t know if this was easier or harder. “It’s… It’s a long story.” 

“Ask one of them where we are,” Sasha nodded to the group. 

“Simon,” Isaac returned to French, it taking far more focus after so much time away, “where are we now?” 

“We’re in Ukraine now. Still a couple hours out from our safehouse,” Simon called back. 

Isaac realized he had no clue what the plan was, “and then?” 

“We get you two cleaned up, get your friend a passport, and then we fly home,” Simon said. “What you do next is up to you. And…” Simon paused, glancing back to him in his mirror. “I’ll be along for the ride, if you want me.” 

Isaac was surprised, but also grateful. “If you want to.” 

“Well I’m making it clear that after this I opt out,” David interrupted. “I’m not here to go chasing your old werewolf buddies across California.” 

“Why are you here, then?” Isaac had just been asking a question for Sasha, but he wanted answers. 

David turned red, staring at the floor instead of him. “You… you saved my life once,” he said it half under his breath but that made it no less sincere. “I... owed you.” 

Isaac knew he and David would never be friends, they both would cringe at the thought, but he was learning to respect him, maybe even forgive. “Consider us even.” 

With an awkward nod, David turned away. 

Isaac returned to his Russian friend, “so, we’re in Ukraine now, but we’ve got a few more hours until we get to a safe house.” 

“That was a long conversation to figure out just that,” Sasha said. Isaac understood how alienating it could be when you didn’t speak the language. 

“Yeah, I just asked what the plan was. After the safehouse, we’re getting you a passport and flying back to France,” Isaac explained. Sasha didn’t need to hear about the thing with David. They would get to that, if Isaac really intended to explain how the hell he had ended up in the middle of nowhere Russia. 

“Good, so you have plenty of time to tell me everything,” Sasha sat back, as if waiting for a story. 

“Everything?” Isaac said grudgingly. 

“Everything.” 

Isaac had moved backwards from Russia to Paris, it was easier that way than to start at the beginning. Eventually, they still ended up at what made him run. 

“Wait- you didn’t just date a human, you dated an _Argent?_” Sasha was still bewildered by him. 

“Yeah, but the only Argents I knew back then were her and her father. Well, by the time we started dating at least,” Isaac was surprised by how easy it was to talk about her. The grief no longer weighed on him so heavily, so instead he could just talk about how much he loved her. 

“How the hell could you feel safe with her? And- And you said her _father?_ How did he take his daughter dating a werewolf?” Sasha asked. Isaac wasn’t sure how he would explain their relationship, but he mostly appreciated that Sasha didn’t press for more details about how she died. 

“Our relationship was a little rocky at first. She stabbed me a bunch, I tried to attack her. We worked it out. And her dad, he ended up being…” Isaac was stuck. What the hell was Chris to him? Most certainly not a father, but a _friend?_ Unlikely. “He took care of me, after she died.” 

“So he’s the hunter who took you to France,” Sasha caught on. “Wait- So, right after your girlfriend died, you just, boarded a plane with her father? No questions asked?” 

Isaac laughed a little awkwardly, “I… I can’t explain it. It sounds absurd, but at the time… I couldn’t think of an alternative.” 

“And you _still_ didn’t go back? Not even after they found out you were a werewolf?” Sasha pushed. “How did you _survive?_” He nodded up to David, “And why is _he_ here now?” 

“There was no way in hell I was going home. And I almost didn’t survive. I got shot but Leo saved me,” Isaac said. “Leo- He’s the one I helped escape. And David? Well, let’s just say we settled our differences.” 

“Okay,” Sasha was trying to process. “You were in Russia as a spy for the Argents because the Volos were murdering innocent people across Europe, you are an Argent by initiation, because you’ve trained to be a hunter -that’s still bullshit to me, a werewolf _and_ a hunter? -and you were initiated into the family because they still didn’t trust you, especially since you spent months disappearing and coming home bloody because you were angry, because that guy, David, outed you as a werewolf. And before then you were living a lie, only the Argent leaders knowing what you were. And you decided to walk into that, no matter how dangerous, because you were grieving your hunter girlfriend’s death? Did I get all that right?” 

Isaac nodded along, “I didn’t leave just because I was grieving, although, that was why the whole town felt so suffocating and I was so guilty I couldn’t tolerate being near my…” was _pack_ the right word? Was he even friends with Stiles and Lydia? Or that new girl, Kira, she was almost-dating Scott, but they weren’t _friends_ because of that, right? Did that _count_ as a pack? “...my friends. And Chris was leaving to France to lock up the nogitsune - the fox spirit which fucked everything up - and I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else.” 

“And you said that more bad things had happened in your town even before that?” Sasha asked. 

“Yeah,” Isaac was growing tired. “But- Look, you get why I’m here now, right? I… I’d rather not keep going to talk about my shitty childhood or my dead pack. The dead girlfriend bit was enough.” 

“We can talk about something else. I… I guess I knew you pretty well anyways,” Sasha said. 

“We could practice your English?” Isaac offered. 

Sasha cringed, “should we?” 

“You spoke a little English to me when we first met. Romy-” Isaac turned back and Romy looked up at the sound of her name. “She still speaks to me in English, because she used to translate for me before I got better at French. And I’d like you to get to know her a little. Just so you know she’s not some scary hunter.” 

“What are you saying about me, American?” Romy sounded suspicious. 

“That you’re a dumbass,” Isaac said sarcastically. “No- I’m trying to get Sasha to try and learn some more English.” 

“Awww, he is like you,” Romy teased. She set aside her handgun, which had now been taken apart and reassembled several times, and moved closer to them. “So, Sasha. How much English do you know?” 

Sasha looked a bit like a deer in headlights as not only was the hunter now talking to him, but she was talking to him in _English_. 

“I know little,” Sasha started. 

All three of them were sitting on the floor of the van, Isaac sat between them, staring back and forth from one to the other, feeling a little too amused by how awkward they both were. 

“Isaac was terrible with his French when he first came to Paris. I had to translate _everything_ for him! He couldn’t order food without my help!” Romy was more than a little too loud for Sasha, but she was plenty welcoming. 

“He was?” Sasha looked from Isaac to Romy, as if gauging how to continue. With a sudden burst of confidence that surprised himself as well as Isaac, he spoke to Romy. “His Russian was also terrible when he came there. He knew many words, but his…” Sasha struggled for a moment. “How words said?” 

“Pronunciation?” Romy offered. 

“Oh- _Pronunciation_. His pronunciation was so bad! Sometimes I could not understand him and guessed,” Sasha was far too at ease now. 

“No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” Isaac grew irritated. “You two weren’t supposed to gang up on me!” 

“Oh- American- Did you say something? I was busy talking to my new best friend- Sash- Sasha?” Romy clarified his name. 

“Yes. I am Sasha. You are… Romi?” He asked. 

“Oh, I like the way you say that, Sasha. Isaac could not say my full name right, Romarin, so I let him call me Romy, but even then, he’s just so… _American._” 

“That is right! He is so American! One time he tried to wear his boots with mud and blood in our _room._ It was very... not clean,” Sasha seemed delighted to have someone to complain to. 

“_Isaac_,” Romy feigned offense. “How could you?” 

“Ro- _You_ wear your shoes inside too!” Isaac regretted his efforts to get them talking, because now it seemed like they wouldn’t stop. 

“Your… _pronunciation_ is better now, Isaak,” Sasha was still definitely teasing him. 

“Simon- help- please tell me we’re close to the safehouse?” Isaac tried to get away from them. 

“Oh, you’ve got another hour with them, mon loup,” Simon didn’t seem to pity him much. 

“Come on, American, we’re _bonding_,” Romy continued trying to wind him up. She turned back to Sasha. “Oh- did he wear those brooding scarves everywhere?” 

“Yes! When he comes back inside he keeps it on!” 

Isaac rejoined them, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed, not when his friends were safe, not when he was out of that box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was mostly filler and dialogue, sort of like a recap of the past big events, but I hope it was still satisfying in its own way! Isaac is one step closer to Beacon Hills and he is almost there, promise!
> 
> ALSO: this picture just screams Isaac to me. He's almost done / people he knows has done all of these things now!


	21. Chapter 21

Isaac hadn’t felt clean in days. Ever since Isaac had carried Leo through the woods - had that only been days ago? - Isaac had some level of mud and blood on him. At first it was just Leo’s blood, but that changed quickly. By the time Isaac had collapsed on the side of the road he had been more blood than clean skin, Isaac’s teeth had been stained with it, and every nailmark adding to the layers of blood that had barely begun to dry. His hands as well, covered in more than his own blood. That tended to happen when you stabbed someone in the eye. Isaac had been aware of this fact, he had experienced every wound, of course, but seeing his reflection for the first time since all of that was still jarring. Isaac’s shoulder, no longer hanging at a broken angle, was still covered in dark red from the echoes of bitemarks. It looked like tiger stripes had been painted all over his arms, the trails of blood from each nail wound so neat and tidy as they had dripped from his bound arms to the floor. Isaac’s chest was in a similar state, the only distinction being a streak through the blood from Alyosha, touching him before it had dried. _That_ he definitely wanted gone as soon as possible. Isaac had a feeling there would be blood covering his back as well from the claws put into his neck _twice._

It was like he was trying to wash away the tension as well as the physical evidence of what had happened to him. Sasha had insisted Isaac shower first, considering Sasha was far less bloody by comparison. The Argent safehouse in Ukraine was not much more than a rental cabin under a false name, the bathroom was far from the clean white and soft linens of the house in Paris, but Isaac couldn’t have cared less if he tried. That didn’t mean this was only an experience of relief. Isaac was alone for the first time since being locked in that chest, and despite spending hours in a small van with four other people, only now did he feel claustrophobic again. Isaac was finally back in control of his body and what was done with it, but he didn’t know how to cope with all that calm. Maybe Isaac had convinced himself that all the terrible things that had happened to him in the past few days wouldn’t hurt him because he was coping far better than he would have years ago, but that didn’t explain why his chest felt tight with panic even here, with his friends just outside. He couldn’t get the blood out from underneath his nails. He couldn’t get the blood out from between his teeth. The water wouldn’t stop running red. 

The only thing that got him out of the shower was the fact that there would be no hot water left for Sasha. If not for that, Isaac felt like he would have stayed there forever, until the tap ran cold. Until he could no longer see the darkness of the freezer - the chest, whatever, they were fundamentally the same space to him - when he closed his eyes. 

“You look like you again!” Romy hit the nail on the head. Isaac _looked_ like himself again, but he wasn’t sure if he felt like was really there. Isaac was with his friends. He was going home to Paris. He was going back to Beacon Hills. But _was_ he? He was out of that camp, and on the one hand he was very aware of that fact, on the other any notion of him going somewhere besides that pit of bodies felt foreign. 

“Do I?” Isaac remembered a response was likely expected. Isaac kept talking in English rather than Russian. “Sasha, bathroom is yours.” 

“Spasibo-” Sasha paused. “_Thanks._” He disappeared into the bathroom. 

“Isaac- have you ever had a chicken kiev?” Simon asked, now on a laptop. 

“I will eat anything that isn’t venison,” Isaac said, drying his hair with a towel. Isaac did feel at least a little calmer in sweats and an oversized t-shirt instead of bloody and tattered clothes. He had felt exposed for reasons beyond his helplessness as he froze running through the woods. After how cold Isaac had gotten in that bunker, Isaac never wanted to be without socks again. “I mean that. I have eaten nothing but venison, rabbit, cabbage, potatoes, and _sometimes_ oatmeal in months. The moment I get back in the states I am getting mexican food. And not that taco bell bullshit either.” 

“Wow, Isaac, I did not know you felt so strongly about this,” Romy said with mocking concern. “Did you miss having the best Paris has to offer? Was is sad not being able to bake in a fully stocked kitchen? You must’ve starved. What a tragedy.” 

“Oh yeah, keep laughing, but next time you eat game with every fucking meal come back and talk to me,” Isaac collapsed onto the threadbare sofa, David poking a stirring fire in front of him. “And you’re really telling me you haven’t missed my baking?” 

“Ehhh,” Romy seemed to think about it for a moment. “Your cupcakes could use some work. Your garlic bread? I thought I would die without it.” She slid to the floor dramatically. 

Isaac, his hair much drier now, threw his towel at her. “How’s Sasha? Does he seem like he’s doing okay?” Now that his friend had left to shower, Isaac had to ask. 

“Other than looking a little startled whenever I start talking to him, he seems fine. Considering how freaked out he gets by hunters, he’s keeping it together really well,” Romy said. 

“I’m just glad he hasn’t tried to take a bite out of us again,” David added unhelpfully. 

“Mhm- So if a group of werewolves had their claws out and were talking over you in Russian, would you stay calm?” Simon asked. 

“Of course not. They could kill me,” David was utterly oblivious. 

“Right,” Simon said dryly, getting to his feet. “Well I’m going to get food. David, you’re coming with me.” 

“Why would I-” 

“Get off your ass. You’re coming with me,” Simon didn’t take no for an answer, pulling his cousin off the ground. “Be back soon.” 

And with that, Isaac and Romy were alone. 

“You _look_ better,” Romy repeated. “Are you feeling any better?” 

She was far better at reading him than it initially seemed. Isaac wasn’t sure what answer to give, “better, sure. _Good?_ Not so much.” 

“But you _are_ going back to America.” 

“How can I not?” 

Romy turned to face him, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t. The opposite, actually. I thought… aren’t you excited to see Scott again?” 

Isaac thought back rapidly. _Had_ he told Romy how he felt about Scott? He had probably talked about him adoringly enough that she’d connected the dots on her own otherwise. 

“Excited, maybe. More than a little terrified,” Isaac admitted. 

“Have you…” Romy seemed to actually consider her words, but only for a moment. She pushed on without much regard for implications. “Have you told Sasha about Scott?” 

“_What?_” Isaac felt a little called out. 

“Well… you and him… you were holding hands the whole way here,” Romy began a little awkwardly. “And if I remember right… you and _Scott_. He had more than a little to do with your bi awakening, right?” 

“I-” Isaac couldn’t see a way around it. “Okay, and?” 

“Well, are you _over_ Scott? It… it doesn’t _seem_ like you are,” Romy didn’t hold anything back, but she still seemed cautious. 

“What makes you say that?” Isaac frowned. Romy wasn’t _wrong_ in any of her assumptions, but was it bad that Isaac’s first thought was _what gave it away?_

Romy looked at him like he had said something stupid on purpose. “You are planning on dropping everything after finally escaping a war zone just so you can run into another one. For _him._” A pause, Isaac unable to defend himself. “That, or it’s a werewolf thing, but from the way you talk about him…” Romy searched his expression for some sign that she was wrong. There wasn’t one. “I think it’s something a little more human.” 

Isaac couldn’t respond to any of that in any reasonable capacity, so he returned to the initial question. “No. I haven’t told Sasha about Scott.” 

“Are you going to?” 

“I…” Isaac sighed. He had been so focused on getting out of there alive, getting _Sasha_ out of there alive, that he hadn’t considered any of the consequences of doing so. “I don’t know.” 

Instead of chastising him or offering meaningless advice, Romy continued in a far more _her_ fashion. “Worst case scenario, I help you fake your death and move you to the alps,” Romy offered. 

“Thanks.” 

Romy paused, seeming to struggle with something internally for a moment, “I… I am shit with being serious.” Another moment of silence, Romy spreading out on the floor and running a hand through her hair. “So… are you okay? I get it if you’re not. You can talk to me about it. If you want.” She looked to him for a reaction. “Or not,” she added quickly. “Whatever. I just… I want you to know that I can listen too.” 

Isaac felt struck by her honesty. “About… what happened the last few days? Or… about Scott?” 

“Either. Both.” 

Isaac had had less than twelve hours to process what had happened to him in Russia. He still hadn’t fully realized that he was safe, from that threat at least. So that was a no-go. “It’s not just Scott. It’s all of them.” 

Romy seemed stuck once more, trying to figure out what was overstepping and what was okay. It wasn’t exactly her specialty. “Okay. So. I am not trying to be insensitive, but who else is there? Didn’t you say…” Romy’s voice grew softer. “Didn’t you say your pack and your family are dead?” 

“Oh,” Isaac struggled with that for a moment, for more reasons than one. Camden’s lighter came to mind despite it having no bearing on their current conversation. “Well. I mean, they are. But… Scott’s pack… it was, sort of, mine vicariously, I guess?” Isaac shrugged. “I don’t know… this is probably stupid, but I was thinking more about… more about Scott’s mom and Chris and just that town, _and_ his pack.” 

“Oh,” Romy connected some more dots. “You… you lived with Scott before you came to Paris, right?” 

“For a few months, really,” Isaac was hit by the realization that he had been in Europe longer than he had been a part of Scott’s life. And yet he felt like Scott was the only constant part of himself through all of this time. 

“So,” Romy smiled, seeming oddly fond considering the subject. “You’re worried what his _mom_ will think?” 

Isaac rolled his eyes, ignoring her teasing. “It’s that, and there’s all these people that I… I don’t know if we were really friends or not,” Isaac shrugged. “And I’m coming back after all this time and… who am I kidding- I don’t give a shit what his friends think- what is _Scott_ gonna think? I don’t know, I don’t know if there’s a way that _talking_ about this will change anything.” 

“Okay,” Romy turned around so she was sitting right in front of him. “So don’t tell me about the bullshit you’re worried about. Tell me about them. I don’t know any names so I don’t know who to make fun of when I get there.” 

Isaac found this topic far less daunting. And this way he could still adjust to the idea of these people existing in his life again. So he told her. 

Sasha had never been on a plane before. Nor had he gone through customs, so passport or not, it was an especially stressful experience for all of them. Sasha didn’t exactly mellow when they landed in Paris. Isaac noticed him holding onto his sleeve from the moment they unboarded. 

“You doing okay?” Isaac murmured to him in Russian, despite their work to teach him English Isaac had a feeling Russian might keep him a bit calmer as they entered the Parisian streets. 

“I have never been in a city like this before,” Sasha responded in turn. “I have never been outside of _Russia_ before.” 

“You get used to it,” was all Isaac could think to say. He couldn’t imagine going from a tiny town in the woods to Paris. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly huge, but at least it had a downtown. Isaac moved to take his hand, hoping it would be easier for him to find his way instead of just holding onto Isaac’s sleeve. Romy’s words came back to him alongside a strange sort of guilt, _have you told Sasha about Scott?_ Isaac pulled away. 

Thankfully, Sasha didn’t notice the coldness as he was distracted by the city. “Are _all_ the buildings this tall?” 

“No. The Argent house is three floors. It’s huge, though. Almost takes up the block with the courtyard it has,” Isaac said. He had forgotten how grand everything here seemed to someone who didn’t live in it. Isaac just shouldered through the tourists like it was second nature. As the streets grew familiar, Isaac walked faster. He was _homesick._ Isaac had never been homesick before in his life. Even missing Beacon Hills, that was longing for a _person_, not a place. 

Those courtyard gates. A mixture of good and bad memories came to mind, of getting his drunk friends home, of coming back from school, but also of that fateful night where he returned home, injured and bleeding, to find the inner doors shut for the first time. 

Romy walked ahead of them now, barreling in like she owned the place. “We’re back!” She shouted to no one in particular. 

Isaac felt a hand hold him back just as they reached the threshold. 

“What?” Isaac turned back to Sasha, expecting maybe some anxiety about entering a house full of hunters, but Sasha seemed properly stuck just outside. 

“You- You don’t _feel_ that?” Sasha asked. 

“Do you want to explain a little more?” Isaac asked. 

“The- The _barrier_. That energy- whatever it is. Isn’t it going to stop us?” Sasha asked. 

Isaac remembered first coming to the Argent house, the ancient ashline which encircled the building was strong enough that even when not sealed by the big ashwood doors, Isaac felt a strange jolt in his stomach every time he crossed it. Isaac was used to it by now. It almost felt like skipping a step when walking down a flight of stairs, a little bit of adrenaline, and then it passed. Isaac now realized something else. Sasha didn’t know what it was. 

“It’s… it’s mountain ash. It’s built into the whole house,” Isaac spoke carefully, gauging for understanding. Sasha showed no sign of recognition. “It’s not sealed. It’s these wooden doors- the barrier only works properly if they’re closed.” 

Sasha still remained just outside. “I… I don’t understand. What… Why is it there?” 

“You’ve… you’ve never seen an ash line before?” Isaac was shocked. Mountain ash and wolfsbane and hunters had always been staples of Isaac’s experiences as a werewolf. He supposed someone who had, until recently, lived peacefully away from hunters would never have encountered it before. “It’s from these special trees or something, I don’t know much about it, but if you make a closed off circle of it, we can’t cross it. Only humans can make that line. The Argent house- the mountain ash is built into it, and it’s old enough and strong enough that… I guess we can feel it? It only works if it’s fully sealed, though, even if it feels weird. And it’s just meant to close the house off if they were ever attacked, and that was long before the Argents ever considered a werewolf coming to stay. But…” Isaac hesitated. How could he say that they didn’t have to worry about those doors being closed when Isaac had experienced that exact betrayal himself? “No one is going to trap you here, okay?” Isaac could say that with utter certainty. Isaac was aware that he was, at some level, putting his freedom and his safety in the hands of others because here there were some things that would always remain out of his control. That’s what all these past years came down to, really. Trust. And Isaac knew that he was safe here. Even if someone else went awol, Romy would throw a fit before letting them close those doors again. 

“Come on,” this time Isaac took Sasha’s hand. They crossed the line together. 

“Hey Uncle Gabe!” Romy hugged the man. “Where’s Aunt Val? And my mom?” 

“They’re back where you were. Tying things up in Russia. They and Jeanie should be back soon,” Gabriel turned to Isaac. “Welcome back,” he greeted him with a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay. You had us really worried there.” 

“Had me a little worried too,” Isaac shrugged. “Where’s Leo? Is he okay?” 

“Upstairs. I’ve been fighting to keep him in the med bay,” Gabriel nodded behind him. 

Leo was heavily bandaged, but he no longer looked on the verge of collapse. 

“I was right, Isaac,” he said the moment his friend came to see him. “I _do_ have broken ribs.” 

Isaac sat beside him, “you feeling better, though? Now that you have actual doctors looking at you?” 

“Hey. You definitely saved me, Isaac. Stop acting like you did nothing,” Leo scolded him. 

“Stop fueling his ego,” Romy teased, sitting on Leo’s bed. “You could’ve fought your way out of there on your own.” She moved to punch him on the arm, as was her normal display of affection, but thought better of it considering Leo’s current condition. 

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Isaac added. “We should’ve just let you run loose and tear down the entire pack yourself.” 

“You both…” Leo rolled his eyes. “Alright, David?” Leo sat up, nodding to his best friend. 

“Better than you,” David reached out and mussed up his hair. Isaac came to a further understanding. David hadn’t ran out into the middle of nowhere to rescue _Isaac_. He had gone out there to save Leo. Or at the very least to repay Isaac for saving Leo for him. 

“And…” Leo looked past Isaac to Sasha, who lurked uncertainly by Simon. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” 

“Oh-” Isaac did so. 

“So this is who you had to go save?” Leo and Sasha said almost exactly the same thing at the exact same time, one in Russian, one in French, but other than that, the essentials were there. It was eerie. 

“Um,” Isaac blinked. Frozen between languages. 

Almost at the same time again, same distinct language barrier, Sasha and Leo said, “what did he say?” 

“This is getting too fucking weird,” Isaac mumbled in English, mostly to himself than anything. 

Romy and David were still looking to Isaac, as they had only understood what Leo had said. Simon, on the other hand, was giggling to himself. 

“So,” Isaac kept talking in English. It was the only thing he could handle at that moment. “I saved you both. Well, I guess Sasha saved _me_ in the end- and, well, Leo- you saved me too, a while back-” 

“Isaac-” Leo, a millisecond later, “Isaak-” from Sasha. They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. 

“I…” Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. Or how to properly introduce the two of them to each other. They were the only two people other than him who understood exactly what had happened in that bunker. And now they were speaking in sync like some freaky twins. And Isaac had known some freaky twins before. 

“American,” Romy held up a hand to stop him. “Do you want to think through what you’re trying to say?” 

“These two,” Isaac pointed vehemently between Leo and Sasha. Leo, tall, thin, light hair and eyes. Sasha, short, with dark hair. Opposites by every obvious account. “Might actually be the same fucking person and it’s stressing me out.” 

“What’re you-” Sasha and Leo, switching to English as Isaac did, now stared at one another. Simon was laughing almost hysterically now. 

“So!” David broke the silence. “When are you all leaving for America?” 

“Soon as I can get back on my feet,” Leo immediately tried to get out of bed. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” David immediately tried to push Leo back onto the bed. “You don’t mean- _You_ want to go to America too?” 

“Well, _obviously,_” Leo stared at David like he was crazy. David stared back in turn. 

“Leo,” Isaac wasn’t even sure what he could say. “You… you have _broken ribs._ You realize that, right? Half of your body is covered in white gauze.” 

“_And?_” Leo was still trying to push past David and get to his feet. 

“You… you know we’re going to America to fight other hunters, right?” Simon joined in. “It’s not for someone who should really be on bed rest.” 

“Who says I need bed rest?!” Leo was growing more incredulous by the second. 

“Everyone,” Romy contributed. 

“I had to _carry you out_ like, what, three days ago?” Isaac scoffed. 

“It’s been longer than that,” Leo insisted. “I’ve been on bedrest for at least five.” 

“Oh.” Isaac paused in his amusement and worry. Had he really been in that bunker for five days? It felt so blurry in his head now. He supposed he had only been down there for three or four of those days, the others being spent at the side of the road and in the safehouse in Ukraine, but that didn’t exactly make him feel better. 

“Jeanie!” Romy got them all to shut up and turn as Jeanie walked through the door. Romy hugged her cousin before punching her in the arm. “Didn’t expect you to be back so soon!” She paused. “Wait, are you hurt? Why’re you in the med bay?” 

“No, you idiot,” Jeanie rolled her eyes, grinning nonetheless. “I’m here to see all of you.” The usual rounds of hugs, and yet another introduction for Sasha, and Jeanie got to Isaac. “Hey. Heard you got yourself into a little bit of trouble back there.” 

“You… you could say that,” Isaac shrugged sheepishly. “What’s happened? Did you guys take the camp?” 

“Yes. Aunt Valerie wouldn’t let me go into the fighting, but I waited around after. I had to know they’d gotten things under control before I came back, and…” Jeanie rummaged through her pockets. “I needed to get you this.” 

“You found it!” Isaac took back Cam’s lighter with more than a little relief. 

“I did! And I am not going to talk about the fact that I found it in a room covered in your blood!” Jeanie matched his joyful tone, but was clearly being sarcastic to cover up the fact that there was no easy way to talk about that. “You talked to Dr. Bhatt yet?” 

“Are you-” Isaac scoffed. “I’ve been back in Paris for an hour tops and you’re asking if I’ve met up with my therapist?” 

“Can you blame me?” Jeanie teased. 

“Stop with the smalltalk,” Romy butted in. “What happened, Jean?” 

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t easy,” Jeanie sighed, taking the spot Romy had left on Leo’s bed. “David- your smoke bombs worked-” 

“They’re not- They’re not _smoke bombs_-” David interrupted. Romy shushed him. 

“The _point_ is-” Jeanie pressed on, “they were all disoriented as hell. I mean, it also meant they were terrified, which didn’t help, but we could be nonlethal since it was harder for them to inflict much damage.” 

“What about Alyosha?” Sasha spoke up, shrinking back as all eyes turned to him. 

“He’s dead,” they all swivelled back to Jeanie. “So is that other alpha.” 

“Lev,” Isaac muttered, staring at the wood floors, still listening, but not all there. 

“We had emissaries there, trying to diffuse the situation, it didn’t work very well at first, but once we got most of the violent ones sedated, the others were more inclined, well, pressured to listen,” Jeanie looked properly exhausted. “We’re going to try and relocate them. It’s… It’s hard to have trials when _everyone_ there has blue eyes…” 

“They were expected to,” Isaac spoke up, defending the very people who he had fled from. “I’m not saying it’s right, but you’ve got to understand, it was dangerous to have yellow eyes,” Isaac almost subconsciously looked to Sasha. 

“We’re not there to start another slaughter,” Jeanie tried to calm him. “We just want to make sure we didn’t just take out their leader for another one to pop up right where he left off.” 

“But it’s over, right?” Sasha asked. 

Jeanie nodded. “Ideally, no one else has to get hurt.” 

“He’s dead,” Sasha said it under his breath, just for himself. 

“Great. So, we can get going, right?” Leo returned to the original topic at hand. 

“We?” Jeanie stared at him. “_You_ shouldn’t be going anywhere.” 

“Shouldn’t I be able to decide that for myself?” Leo groaned, flopping back against his pillow before wincing, one hand going to his ribs. 

“What if,” Simon spoke up. “Leo, I stay behind with you for a few more days and then we go catch up?” 

“I thought you wanted to go,” Leo frowned. 

“I _do_. But we’ll be a lot more help if you’re functional when we do,” Simon pointed out. 

“Fuck- _Fine,_” Leo finally gave up. 

“Perfect! And maybe you can convince this dolt to come,” Romy shoved David lightly. 

David shook his head. “Why would I-” 

“Because the rest of us are!” Romy interrupted. “Peer pressure. Obviously.” 

“And you’re dead useful,” Jeanie added. “How hard would it be to swap out the wolfsbane in those smoke bombs for some more human sedatives?” 

“Not hard…” David muttered ruefully. “I don’t see why we’re fighting hunters…” 

Romy went on to berate him further, to the point of almost tackling him to the floor. 

“Isaak?” Sasha leaned closer to Isaac, speaking softly in Russian. “Why are all your friends so willing to die for you?” 

“What-” Isaac thought of all of this was spiraling out of his control. “Why do you think we’re going to die?!” 

Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a possibility.” 

“Let’s get packed,” Jeanie dragged Romy by the arm as she had taken to tickling David mercilessly. “Simon- could you get Sasha some clothes from somewhere?” 

Isaac was barely out of the med bay when he was instead greeted by familiar faces. A tall, well built Ukrainian and a short Indian with a far less muscley appearance. A pair who had saved Isaac’s ass more than once. 

“Isaac!” Dr. Bhatt looked a little breathless as he greeted Isaac with a hug. “Gabriel called us- We came as soon as we heard you were back-” 

“Let the man breathe, Ari,” Petyr pulled his partner off of him. Petyr clapped Isaac on the shoulder in his own greeting, “you need a haircut, friend.” 

Isaac grinned, “what’re you two doing here?” 

“We’re here to see you, of course!” Bhatt said. He grew serious. “Gabriel told us getting you back here wasn’t easy. How are you?” 

Isaac knew there was no way in hell that he and Dr. Bhatt would be able to continue in any manner of professionalism as therapist and patient, not as their relationship had shifted over Isaac’s last months here to one of friends. That didn’t stop him from being struck by his own vulnerability, finally faced with the person he had learned to trust implicitly with all of his suffering. 

“They-“ Isaac was grateful his friends had kept walking. He didn’t want them to see him get choked up, not now. He was meant to take them to America, to guide them into all of this. He wasn’t supposed to break down into tears. Petyr also had the tact to turn away. “They put me in a freezer.” Isaac laughed weakly. A reaction drawn up because his first thought after that statement was to correct himself, it was a _chest,_ not a freezer. That was secondary to his urge to laugh being a symptom of hysterical terror which had lingered within him since Russia. 

“Oh, _Isaac._” Bhatt looked at him with the kind of understanding Isaac hadn’t thought possible. There was no way anyone could understand what it was like to be locked away like that again, but somehow Bhatt understood. Maybe not in the same way, but _enough._ “You’re _here._ Okay? I swear- you’re safe now. You’re safe here.” Somehow Bhatt also knew that this return home still didn’t feel real to Isaac. Bhatt was the only one who would have thought to validate that reality for him. 

“I- I did it, doc,” Isaac was rambling now, but Bhatt’s attention was entirely focused on him. “I did it. I- I processed and-and I managed. I didn’t spin out. I didn’t,” it was like Isaac was trying to convince Bhatt as well as himself. “I was in that tiny box and I- I kept it together. Well, relatively- It was still _bad_, but I kept it together. Way more than I thought I could.” 

“You did?” Such a mixture of tenderness and pride in Bhatt’s tone. “You’re… you’re stronger than you know, Isaac. I only wish you hadn’t had to be.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ll manage, but… I won’t bury this. I promise. I’ll process it or whatever eventually, I’ve just…” 

“You’ve got stuff to do first,” Bhatt nodded. “I don’t like it, but I understand.” 

“What’re you… what’re you two doing now?” Isaac didn’t want to focus on the turmoil he had just freed, so he moved on. “Are you… are you going to America?” 

“Definitely not,” Petyr returned to the conversation. “If you need us, Isaac, we’ll be there, of course, but…” Petyr turned to his boyfriend, warmth between them. “This place needs emissaries right now.” 

“Yeah. Romy and Jeanie told me what you two have been doing. It’s perfect. It’s what you two were made to do,” Isaac said. “Keep doing this. I can survive without you for a little while.” 

“Speaking of-” Bhatt almost seemed to wince. “You ended up meeting Alyosha. Didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I’m okay,” Isaac said quickly. “I mean, he fucked me up plenty, but he didn’t- you know- not like that.” 

“Okay,” Bhatt squeezed Isaac’s hand, a weight clearly leaving his shoulders. “I know that doesn’t mean what _did_ happen to you is okay, but… it’s something.” 

“It’s something,” Isaac agreed. “Look- We’re trying to get on a plane as soon as possible, so I don’t have much time to catch up but-” 

“Don’t worry about us, Isaac,” Bhatt waved him off. An endeared smile, “go see Scott.” 

Isaac still paused. “Thank you. Both of you. For coming to see me.” 

“We’ll still be here, Isaac,” Petyr said, an arm around Bhatt’s shoulder. 

“So get going,” Bhatt gave that final push. “You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Isaac went to his old room alone. The thin layer of dust on every surface reminded him of how long he had been gone. The half written letters buried in a drawer reminded him further. 

_Scott, _

_ I’m sorry I left you._

_Scott, _

_ I want you to know that although I still miss you and your mom, that I’m okay_

_Scott, _

_ I don’t know if I ever said thank you for what you’ve done for me._

_Scott, _

_ I think I’ve finally learned how to deal with losing Allison. I hope you have and I wish we’d have a chance to talk about her again, I know it hurt too much at the time, but we both loved her. That means something, right?_

So much uncertainty he had tried to draft, and then finally: 

_I think I might have loved you. _

At the bottom of that letter, just as rambling as the last few but far more raw, 

_I think I still love you._

Isaac stared at the words as if somehow they would change, as if the letters would shift or somehow the fact that all of these thoughts were still just shoved in a drawer would change. They didn’t. Isaac wouldn’t have wanted them to. The truth hadn’t changed in all these months. 

Isaac considered putting them in his bag. He put them back in the drawer. Isaac was going home. He would tell Scott all of this in person or he wouldn’t tell him at all. Isaac hoped for the former. He was going _home._ This house in Paris was home, Beacon Hills was not. 

Isaac wasn’t going to Beacon Hills. He was going to Scott. 

He was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought I would get to beacon hills by the end of this one, but more stuff kept coming up! I want to tie up any loose ends and such from Europe before Isaac goes home, but this time I mean it, the next chapter will start in Beacon Hills!
> 
> Take care, guys. x


	22. Chapter 22

Isaac’s first time back in the states in too many years was not in Beacon Hills. It wasn’t even California. He and the Argents staggered around a crowded Texas airport some time past 5 pm. Considering they had left Paris at 3 in the afternoon for a nine hour flight only to land in Dallas at 5 pm, they were a little jetlagged, but before Isaac could take in the fact that he was back in America, they were back on a plane. Three hours later, they were landing in Sacramento at 7 pm, less trippy than their first flight, but still, a lot for one day. Beacon Hills wasn’t a small town, but too small to warrant its own airport. Isaac returned to his home town behind the wheel of a rental, half asleep and definitely not in the best condition to drive. He still felt them get closer to Beacon Hills. Whether it was some nemeton nonsense or simply psychological, Isaac didn’t know. All he knew was the strange familiarity of the preserve encircling the valley and the landmarks he knew like the old video store - closed for a while now by the looks of it - the Industry bridge over the East Hills river, dividing the suburbs from the downtown, and the warehouse district further south. Isaac almost didn’t know where he was going. Not because he had forgotten these streets, but rather because he had no idea where he was supposed to land.

Isaac got them downtown, Jeanie told him the name of the hotel. Isaac was back in Beacon Hills and he was checking into a _hotel._

It felt like things should be harder. Going from Paris to Beacon Hills was too normal of an experience, too fast and a bit of an exhausted haze, but still far too normal. It felt like he was moving back in time. And not just from the time difference. Not to mention Romy, Jeanie, and Sasha coming with him, _that_ felt borderline insane. Like two worlds crossing that were never meant to touch. Isaac knew it was more so the fact that Isaac didn’t think he belonged here anymore. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a tourist destination, so most of the hotels were meant for travelling business people. Still, somehow the Argents had found a room big enough for the four of them and their inordinate supply of guns and miscellaneous weaponry. 

Everything there felt off. While Isaac knew Derek’s loft was only a few blocks over, while he knew the suburbs just over the bridge had the McCall’s house, his old high school, and his old house, none of it felt tangible yet. He was walking through a dream. 

“Allô? Earth to Isaac?” Jeanie shook him out of it. “Are you unpacking or are you disassociating yourself back to France?” 

Isaac shook himself, “a bit of both, really.” He paused, staring down at his handgun, unsure if he should put it in the safe with their other firearms or keep it on him. 

“As long as you didn’t leave your head in Russia, you’ll be fine,” Jeanie teased lightly. Isaac knew she wanted to say something more. “I know I said I wasn’t gonna talk about how I found your lighter in a room covered in your blood, but…” She bit her lip. “How are you doing? With all of that?” 

“You’re still trying to get me back in therapy, huh?” Isaac said dryly. He appreciated her concern, but he definitely didn’t want to talk about it. So instead he asked something else, “so, you guys killed Alyosha. And Lev.” 

“The two alphas? Yes. Not me, obviously. It took a team of machine gun fire to get them to stay down, no one wanted to get close, but we put them down,” she leaned in closer. “Don’t tell David this, but his gas bombs don’t work so well on alphas. They still put up one hell of a fight.” 

“Any casualties?” Isaac asked. 

“No, actually. Alyosha was already injured. Looks like someone gouged his eye out...” Jeanie suddenly paused, thinking. She looked Isaac up and down as if processing something. Isaac could see the cogs turning behind her eyes. “Don’t tell me… No way- But, who else, I mean- Isaac, did you..?” 

“Um, maybe?” Isaac said sheepishly, a hand going to the back of his neck, messing with his hair as he didn’t know what to do with the attention. He didn’t feel guilty, obviously, but maybe a little embarrassed by the brutality. 

“Oh my god. You need to tell Romy, she’s going to lose it,” Jeanie clapped him on the back. “Or… maybe we shouldn’t. We’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Tell me what?” Romy poked her head into the room immediately, startling both of them. 

“Jesus- you hear better than most werewolves,” Isaac rolled his eyes, a hand going to his chest like she’d given him a heart attack. His heart _was_ beating a little faster. He _wasn’t_ still jumpy. He was fine. He was _fine._

Romy persisted, “tell me _what?_” 

Jeanie looked to Isaac, smiling, “you want to tell her or should I?” 

Isaac shrugged, “I don’t see what the big deal is…” 

“What?” Romy hit Jeanie’s arm lightly. “I’m on the edge of my seat here, Jean. _What?_” 

“Calm down,” Isaac rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to say it, it’s just-” 

Jeanie held up a hand to silence him, clearly wanting the honors, putting her arm around Romy, “it’s just… that your best friend here took an eye out of the baddest alpha in Europe.” A pause. Jeanie far too smug as she waited for the bomb next to her to go off. 

“You did _what?_” Romy almost tackled him, as was her usual first instinct to show affection, but she held back, but that meant she was almost bouncing with ill contained energy. “No fucking way- _my_ American- you _blinded_ werewolf Stalin?!” 

“It was only the one eye-” 

Romy threw her arm around his shoulder, so short Isaac was basically holding her off the ground, “so what- you still gouged his fucking eye out! That is metal as hell! I call _myself_ a punk- you’re a goddamn legend!” Romy tried to calm her excitement, she fixed her hair, stepping back and rolling her shoulders in what she seemed to think was a show of calm, “well, I mean. Almost as badass as me, anyway,” she sniffed, nodding wisely. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Isaac shook his head, but he was grinning too. 

“Oh _I’m_ ridiculous- you’re the one who didn’t tell me you _gouged an alpha’s eye out._ You keeping anything else from me? Did you wrestle a bear while you were out there too?” Romy couldn’t contain her giddiness and she was back to tormenting him, jumping up to try and mess up his hair and giving him an _almost_ gentle punch on the arm. 

Isaac was far too comfortable chatting about his trauma, call it coping, so he decided to add, “I… might’ve taken a chunk out of the other alpha’s neck?” He shrugged. “I mean, he healed, obviously, but…” 

“Wait- you-” Jeanie was now struggling to process. “Took a chunk out of his _neck?_ How the hell did you do that?” 

“...with my teeth?” 

“Sometimes I forget you’re a werewolf,” Romy let out a low whistle. “That’s fucking feral.” 

“No, not with fangs,” Isaac shook his head, “with my _teeth._” 

They stared at him. Now less awe and more genuinely disturbed confusion. 

“It was… it was after they poisoned me?” Isaac said, hoping they would stop looking at him like that. “So… I couldn’t turn.” The two girls seemed to suddenly remember the context that surrounded Isaac’s apparent strength. 

“Well, uh. You’re definitely a badass, American,” Romy cleared her throat, trying to get them out of the awkward and dark mood. Isaac, with years of therapy under his belt, still didn’t know how to manage talking about what happened to him to other people. Part of him almost missed Stiles being absolutely tactless and saying _are you still milking that?_ when Isaac made a sarcastic remark about his shitty childhood. _Almost_ missed it. Isaac was reminded also of the fact that he could very well be seeing Stiles again soon. He wasn’t quite as excited about that one as he was for the McCalls. Although, part of him - which he would deny profusely if asked - _did_ miss Stiles. Lydia too, of course, but Stiles felt like more of a surprise. 

“Yeah, your old friends won’t even recognize you,” Jeanie jumped in with a topic change, “and not just because your hair is getting terribly overgrown.” 

“It is not,” Isaac muttered, pushing his curls back. Despite what everyone was saying it wasn’t _that_ long. It was just starting to cover his ears now, that was nothing. Isaac returned to his current anxieties. “When did you call Chris?” 

“A while ago,” Jeanie said as they headed back towards the main room where Romy was now moving to wrestle Sasha for the TV remote. “Right after we sent you back to the Volos. I… I didn’t update him on the whole torture thing. I think Tante Val told him that you were safe now but I don’t know how much she explained beyond that.” Jeanie paused, watching Romy and Sasha both grappling with the fact that all the channels were in English. “He knows you’re here.” 

“But… he won’t be back for a few more days,” Isaac was caught up on most of it - What else were they supposed to talk about on a twelve hour flight? - but he still felt lost here. “I know.” 

“He said that Melissa is here? That you know her well? He hasn’t heard from Scott, but he thinks you could just wait at the house for him if he isn’t already there now,” Jeanie offered. 

Isaac nodded. “I don’t want to just turn up at his house out of the blue.” 

“You could try calling him?” 

Isaac laughed dryly. “And say what? ‘Hey, I know it’s been a few _years_ since we last spoke, but what if I stop by and say hi?’ That is somehow worse than just waiting for him in his house like a creep.” 

“Okay,” Jeanie sighed exasperatedly, “so what would you suggest then? You planning on going back in time and catching up three years ago before it would be awkward? What’s that saying…” she paused, “best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago, second best time is today?” 

Isaac stared at her. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.” 

“Okay, but am I _wrong?_” 

“We could go with you,” Romy spoke up. At some point her and Sasha had started paying attention again so once more Isaac was everyone’s focus. _Why_ were they all so intent on checking up on him? He found it absurd enough that the three of them had agreed to come immediately. To think that in a week or so Leo and Simon would follow wouldn’t even compute for him. 

Isaac registered that Romy was expecting a reply. “No. Thanks, but… I think I just have to toughen up and… just go there, you know?” 

“Did you want to wait for Chris?” Romy asked. 

Isaac had considered it, Chris was more predictable, more understandable, to Isaac than the McCalls were after all these years; something he never thought would happen. “No. It’s a waste of time if he won’t be back for a few days. I’ll…” What _was_ Isaac planning on doing? Scott and Melissa could be just across town right now, and he was overthinking things like an anxious teenager figuring out when he should text back. The mature and responsible thing to do would be to call Scott, ask him how he was doing and ask to meet up. Maybe mention Scott now had a family of Argents ready to back him up. Not many now, but once Valerie finished cleaning up in Russia, Isaac hoped she would send more support. That could take weeks, but it was something. And it was something to talk about when he finally saw Scott. Something _other_ than all the thoughts Isaac had been bottling up over the years… 

“Look, American, we could drive you over there and leave you there, so you’d _have_ to go talk to them!” Romy offered helpfully. 

“Chris seemed to think you would just go to the house. It sounds like Melissa and Scott are expecting you,” Jeanie said. 

“And…” Romy hesitated before switching from English to French. “_You should tell your little Russian boy about Scott before you go._” 

“Romy…” Isaac rolled his eyes. Sasha frowned, glancing between them. The sudden language change wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Romy with nothing but a look she silently told him _if you don’t start talking, I will. And we both know that will be a nightmare._

How the hell was Isaac supposed to bring this up organically? This wasn’t even a typical ‘there’s someone else’ scenario because Sasha and him weren’t _together._ Isaac had been clear that he couldn’t be with Sasha, but it had been heavily implied that was because their situation was too precarious at the Volos’ camp. Isaac had no idea what Sasha actually expected of him. They were friends, right? Just friends? When Isaac had turned him down Sasha had been confused and hurt, but he had also been quick to tell him it was okay. 

“What… what’re you guys gonna do while I’m gone?” Isaac started. 

“Go over the info Chris sent me. Or at least _I_ am, I doubt Romy has any intention of doing anything besides sleep,” Jeanie said. 

Isaac switched over to Russian, it was the closest to a private conversation he could get in a hotel room. “Sasha? Are… are you gonna be okay here? While I go see Scott?” Isaac asked. 

Sasha looked confused, “yes? Scott- that’s your old alpha, right? Or… current alpha? Still not really clear on that.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac felt ridiculously nervous. He joined Sasha on the sofa. “Me neither.” Isaac bit his lip. Part of him thought he would explain this and Sasha would be confused why Isaac felt the need to tell him at all. Another part of him feared Sasha would feel betrayed. “I… I’ve wanted to see Scott for a long time. He’s…” 

“He’s why you said no. When I kissed you,” Sasha spoke up and Isaac looked to him in surprise. 

“How did you-” 

“You’re a little transparent, Isaak,” Sasha shrugged. “You didn’t tell me much about him, but from what you did… from why you decided to come back to America, I had a feeling.” 

“And?” 

“I already knew we were… we’re friends, right?” Sasha hesitated over his words. 

“Yes. Right- we are,” Isaac didn’t know where he was going with this. 

“Then… I’m good.” Sasha smiled, “I didn’t come to the other side of the world just to get in your pants, Isaak.” 

Isaac laughed, feeling that weight of anxiety he’d been carrying since Romy had first spoken to him about this finally leave. “I’m glad you’re here, Sasha.” 

“Somehow I’m glad too,” Sasha said. He paused, “I like Romy. She’s… well, nice isn’t the right word. She’s… easy to be around. Once you get used to all the shouting and the arm punching and all that.” 

“Good,” Isaac noted how calming that was to hear. These two separate worlds didn’t collide, so to speak, but they were slowly merging in a way Isaac had found stressful at first and now… less so. Of course, no one from his old life in Beacon Hills had joined the fray yet, so he still had that to look forward to. 

“So, are you just going to sit here with me or were you going to go see him?” Sasha broke the silence. 

“Oh- Yeah,” Isaac got to his feet, still incredibly unsure of himself. He still had his holster on under his jacket. Was that an okay thing to do? He had gotten used to carrying weapons on hunts before he left for Russia and when he finally had a gun again afterwards he found it comforting to have it on him, but it almost felt rude. Or at least different. The fact that Isaac now carried a gun was a badge of how much he had changed. Then again… apparently there were a growing number of dangerous hunters in the states. Best to keep it on him, just in case. 

“If you guys need anything-” Isaac still lingered. 

Romy stood and started walking towards him with an intensity that she fully intended on dragging him out of there if he didn’t get going. 

“Fine! Fine, I’m going,” Isaac rolled his eyes and then he was alone. He felt this anxious weight on his chest that only had a little to do with his most recent trauma. Isaac had too much empty silence ahead of him on the ten minute drive to the McCall house. 

Isaac glanced down to his arm, hit by a wave of annoyance at himself. He had gotten Scott’s mark, the two circles that represented his pack, tattooed. Sure, there was also a triskele and several arrowheads involved, but that didn’t change the fact that his tattoo was making him feel very vulnerable at present. Isaac didn’t regret it, and he had meant it when he said it was a promise to all the people he had left behind, but he was also about to face one of those people. Isaac pulled down his sleeve. On the topic of the current condition of his skin, Isaac was particularly grateful for werewolf healing at present. The thought of turning up on the McCall’s front doorstep battered by new wounds and old scars was not a welcome thought. The nail marks alone would have been... troublesome. Healing made it easier for Isaac to keep what happened to him close to his chest. 

Too many memories hit him as he kept driving. Although he had to admit the driving itself was a welcome distraction. He hadn’t gotten his license until he moved to Paris and started training to be a hunter, so all of his driving experience was on European roads. Not to mention he hadn’t driven in several months due to the whole being stranded in Russia thing. Isaac would manage, and while it did take more focus, it wasn’t enough to pull him away from the fact that he was crossing the Northern bridge now. The same bridge he and Scott had rode over together. So long ago in a time where they were both so afraid and worn down but somehow for those precious moments, he and Scott had been connected in a way that freed them. 

The suburbs were not an escape. He knew if he kept going straight he would pass the animal clinic. If he turned a little before then he would find himself outside of his old house. Thankfully, or perhaps un-thankfully, Scott’s house was not past his old house. It was closer, just between the animal clinic and the high school further north. His old high school… This whole town felt like a fever dream to him now. Isaac braked a little too fast a few houses away from Scott’s. He could see the McCall house. There were lights on inside. 

“How the fuck are you gonna do this, Lahey,” Isaac mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving the faint warm light of the lamp Isaac knew they always kept on in the front room. There was a nine hour difference between France and California. Isaac had left Paris at 3 pm, been on a plane for about twelve hours, and it was now almost 8 pm. Maybe heavily jetlagged wasn’t the best start for their reunion. Although, Isaac was wide awake considering back in Russia he would be waking up in a few hours and had slept for most of the flight. Still, all of this time change and jet lag logistics he had been overthinking were just an excuse for him to tell himself 8 pm was too late to drop by on someone. 

He knew that was bullshit. Especially with a family like the McCalls where Melissa got home around this time and they would have takeout at nine pm on the regular. Late dinners with Scott clumsily trying to help Isaac cook and Melissa always happy to see them… Still, Isaac just kept on staring at that lamp in their front room. 

Isaac, before he could convince himself to chicken out in some other convoluted way, got out of the car and started walking for their front door. Isaac had remembered a far wetter and colder walk to the McCall’s front door so long ago, the helpless terror over Derek kicking him out felt so foreign to him now. Of course, that had everything to do with the fact that the McCalls - and later the Argents - had shown him he wasn’t alone. 

Isaac knocked on the door. 

Isaac felt just as startled to see Melissa as Melissa seemed to be to see him, although Isaac didn’t have an excuse as he was the one knocking on _her_ door. He quickly progressed into further anxiety as he saw her expression go from surprise to disappointment to confusion. 

“Isaac,” Melissa still sounded unsure, she paused, “I thought you were Scott.” 

“Oh,” Isaac had a sinking feeling in his chest. He slouched, trying to make himself smaller as he always did in times of self doubt and self loathing. “Sorry, Ms. McCall, I didn’t mean to bother- I can go.” 

“No- Isaac- _I’m_ sorry, I’m a little distracted. I didn’t think you would be here so soon, but don’t you dare leave just over that!” Melissa waved him off. “Come over here and give me a hug, will you?” 

Relief. Isaac had missed the way the McCalls smelled. The scent of their laundry detergent and how Melissa always smelled a little like hand sanitizer no matter how long she had been off work. Isaac’s unsure anxiety began to fade as Melissa held onto him tightly, not letting go. 

“It’s so good to see you, honey,” Melissa finally pulled away and looked him over. “Have you somehow gotten taller? Or were you really always this tall? And I swear your hair has gotten curlier. Longer, definitely, but it suits you, Isaac. You’re as handsome as ever. Come on inside, I’ll see if I have any decent food in the kitchen. Unlikely, but I can always hope.” 

Isaac followed her inside, looking around the house. It was very much the same. They had a new dining table and the pillows on the couch had been switched out at some point, but Scott’s shoes were still scattered in the half-open hall closet and there was a pile of dishes perpetually waiting in the sink. Isaac took a deep breath. It was such a strange mixture of a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time and an anxiety he had never experienced before. Isaac had never had this kind of longing for his past. Then again, outside of the McCalls, there wasn’t much good in his past to long for. 

“When did you get back?” Melissa called over her shoulder, staring doubtfully into their fridge. 

“We drove in from the airport in Sacramento a few hours ago,” Isaac said. Was the conversation stilted? Less natural than it had been before? Maybe he was just reading into it too much, but he also knew that after all this time things wouldn’t instantly click how they had before. 

“It’s, what, a 12 hour flight from here to Paris?” Melissa asked, “aha!” She got out a tub of ice cream, but the moment she opened it her success faded into an eyeroll. “Scott… that boy is a werewolf hero and he still puts empty containers back in the fridge,” she dropped it into the trash. “That’s about all I got,” Melissa shrugged. 

“It’s fine, Ms. McCall,” Isaac resisted the urge to sit at the kitchen island. It was a familiar act, so many times where he had sat there after school struggling through homework while Scott chatted away about something mindless, but he felt it wasn’t his place anymore. 

“Isaac, come on,” Melissa looked at him with fond exasperation. “After all this time you could just call me Melissa. And quit standing there like you’re about to run out the door. Did you think I was kidding when I said I was happy to see you?” She teased lightly. 

Isaac sat down, “the flight was okay. Had a connected flight nine hours in. I’m a little jetlagged. My brain still thinks it’s 5 am.” 

Melissa winced on his behalf. “Well, I’m still working nights so, we’ll be up late together,” that word, _together_ seemed to ring in Isaac's ears. She paused. Isaac could read her expression well enough to tell that something was bothering her. 

“So, where’s Scott?” Isaac asked. Her hesitation said far too much. "Did... did something happen?" 

Melissa sighed, “I guess I was being pretty transparent. Been distracted all night and now I'm too distracted to focus on the fact that you're finally _here._. So, parent of the year here, I have no idea where he is. He was supposed to check in when he was on his way home, but he still hasn’t called and it’s been hours.” She leaned against the counter, pushing her hair back, looking far more exhausted than she had just a moment ago. It seemed Isaac wasn’t the only one trying to put on a brave face for the sake of someone he hadn’t seen in years. 

“Do you… do you know where he’s _supposed_ to be?” Isaac’s initial concern for Melissa turned to worry for Scott. If Melissa was getting stressed about this, history goes to show Scott was likely in trouble. 

“He and the- the pack, you know, they were supposed to go check out this old building. Monroe’s people- She’s been moving back in on Beacon Hills. Unsuccessfully so far, of course, but it’s been a long time since hunters have gotten this close and it made Scott nervous. More so than I expected him to be, honestly. He’s been…” Melissa looked for the right words. “Very grounded in the past months. He’s… he’s a good leader, alpha, whatever the difference- And I mean, I’m proud of him, of course, but would it _kill_ him to call his mother?” Melissa was definitely only saying that part because if Scott hadn’t just forgotten to call… the alternative was worse. “And of course Chris is the same way, and he’s down in Mexico at the moment, so I would prefer if he checked in at least _sometimes._” 

Isaac was too distracted by their current predicament to question why Melissa wanted Chris to check in with her. “And you don’t know where this building is?” Isaac’s fear for Scott was overshadowed by experience. He couldn’t fathom telling Scott how he felt, but he could do something about this. Isaac had a team sitting in a hotel room right now waiting to move. He was fully prepared to rush to Scott’s aid. 

“No. I don’t. I even tried looking it up on google maps,” Melissa laughed a little helplessly. “I just don’t understand it, because it _has_ to be at least a little important, Scott got so _quiet_ when Stiles told him the name of this place, in fact they all did. Lydia too.” Melissa frowned. “I should’ve asked more questions.” 

Isaac had a strange nagging anxiety growing as Melissa continued to explain. He still kept his voice level. “What’s the name, Ms. McCall?” 

She didn’t acknowledge his continuing refusal to call her Melissa, simply continued on to what was important. “It’s called Oak Creek. Just… just Oak Creek that’s all Stiles said. Not even if it’s a street or an office name or what-” Melissa noticed Isaac seemed to freeze. “Isaac, what is it? Don’t tell me- you know what this is too?” 

Isaac felt like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him - and he’d experienced that more often as of late so he would know - because how the hell after all this time was he going to end up at the same place she died? Outside of Isaac feeling like this was a cosmic sign from the universe to taunt him, Isaac had more rational and far more pressing concerns to think about. “This Monroe woman, how much does she know about Beacon Hills? About Scott?” 

“More than I’d like,” Melissa said with a sigh. “She does her homework, that’s for sure. Had enough to try and get a mob running after Scott a year or so ago…” She finally looked him in the eye again, something both too fond and too worried for Isaac to be at ease with her gaze. “It’s been a strange few years without you, Isaac. And I have a feeling even with that Scott hasn’t told me all of it.” Another pause. “Like what Oak Creek is and why it’s so important." 

“It’s-” Isaac cleared his throat, trying to bury his own personal issues a little deeper for the sake of Melissa and to an extent Scott. “It’s an old internment camp. From world war two.” Melissa still didn’t seem to realize. Isaac supposed there was no reason to tell Melissa petty specifics like that when he and Scott had been busy grappling with the fact that they had watched her die. “It’s where we fought the nogitsune. It’s… It’s where she- _Allison,_ it’s where Allison died.” 

A sudden understanding came to Melissa but it was not an epiphany it was a dawning horror, “and if Monroe did her research-” 

“I’m guessing she thought it would be good place to get Scott vulnerable,” Isaac’s hands were fidgeting at his side, tension refusing to stop rising. 

“Christ,” Melissa’s hands went to cover her face as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pulled herself together and looked back to Isaac. “Okay- But, you know where this is?” 

“Yeah,” how could he forget? Isaac’s hand went to the tattoo on his arm, still hidden by his sleeve. “I’ve got people- Argents, hunters, just, I have people who can help. I can leave now and,” Isaac paused, determination rising, if he was going to make a promise, he damn well intended on keeping it. “And we’ll bring him home, okay?” 

“You’re damn right we are,” Melissa nodded. That was not what Isaac had intended when he had said 'we' but Melissa was already on the move. She disappeared upstairs and Isaac was thrown for a loop to see her return with a handgun. She had also changed out of her sweatpants in exchange for dark jeans and sturdy boots not unlike Isaac’s own. 

“You… have a…” Isaac stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly. 

“What-? Oh, yeah,” Melissa was dismissive, as if this were a perfectly ordinary expectation for Isaac to have of her. “Chris left a bunch of them here, we’ve got a safe upstairs in-” She grew a little sheepish, “well, in your room. It’s mostly the same,” she added quickly. “We’ve just had to keep… certain supplies in there as of late.” She stared at him as he still wasn’t sure how to respond. “Do you know how to shoot?” 

Isaac couldn’t help but laugh, he pulled back his jacket, revealing the holster under his arm. Melissa let out a low whistle. 

“I guess we’ve both changed a bit over the years, huh?” She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Now, should I drive separate or can I fit in your car with your team?” 

Isaac was still struggling to process. Melissa McCall. With a gun. Waiting to go off to fight werewolf hunters. Had their layover flight through Texas accidentally dumped them in a parallel dimension? Was Chris about to come around the corner in nurse’s scrubs? 

“Oh! One more thing-” Melissa went to their hall closet and returned with a first aid kit. She was still very much the same, and if anything the gun was just an enhancement on her preexisting badassery. 

“I don’t know how much good that’ll be M-” 

She held up a hand to silence him before opening it. Alongside traditional first aid, there were several vials of varying shades of purple. 

“Deaton?” Isaac blinked. 

“Isaac, you should know by now I am always prepared. There are some things you can’t go through without learning to take precautions. Having your son get turned into a werewolf and almost die,” she paused at these words, clearly thinking of something specific, what Isaac didn’t know, she continued without explanation, “way too many times, is one of those things.” 

Isaac, now less shocked by Melissa’s competence, which, knowing her Isaac shouldn’t have been surprised at all, and instead refocused on the fact that as far as they knew Scott had walked into real danger. 

“My team- I’ve only got three stateside right now, but we might want to drive separate in case Scott and the others can’t get to their car,” Isaac had a feeling, though, that if they had gone into danger in Stiles’ jeep, Stiles would die before leaving without it. Although… Isaac wasn’t sure if Stiles would be there. Unless he, like Melissa, had learned to fight with something other than a baseball bat. All things considered, even if he hadn’t Stiles still tended to find a way to cause trouble. 

“Your team, huh?” Melissa nudged him lightly. Despite her clear concern and urgency over Scott, she still found a way check up on Isaac in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. “Don’t tell me you’re some fancy boss back at the Argent house? Chris hasn’t told me all that much, but are you doing good there?” 

_I am now_, Isaac did not voice that thought aloud, feeling amused as he knew exactly why Chris likely hadn’t shared the details of Isaac’s exploits in France. “Yeah, but I’m not a leader, like, at all. I know how to fight, though. And some friends of mine wanted to come and help.” 

“We have a lot of catching up to do, mister, but first let’s go get our Scott back,” Melissa took the lead as they headed out into the night.

_Let's go get our Scott back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought Scott was going to be in this chapter, but apparently whether I like it or not I am trying to write the longest slow burn in history! Sorry it took me so long to update, I've been having some writers block and a lot of bigger life stuff going on this past week. And I'm still trying to remember how to write the Beacon Hills gang. I'm hoping so far so good with Melissa, but we'll see! I have missed writing her.
> 
> Hope you guys are doing okay and the wait wasn't too terrible. I know this was more filler than action, but I'll try and get back into the swing of things and update more regularly!


	23. Chapter 23

Isaac returned to the hotel room to find the group both restless and tired. Sasha, who, like Isaac, felt like it was around 6 am, was curled up asleep. Romy was fiddling with her brass knuckles. Jeanie was at the table rereading the updates from Chris.

“I didn’t think you’d be back already,” Jeanie said, looking up at him as the door opened. 

“It’s… it’s not for good news,” Isaac said. “Scott is in trouble. Well, we think.” Isaac sighed, already guilty for asking so much of his friends. “You guys ready for a fight?” 

“Um. Yes!” Romy was immediately on her feet, startling Sasha awake. “I was about to start punching walls I’m so fucking bored.” 

Sasha blinked awake. “What’s happening..?” 

“Scott fell off the map and…” Isaac didn’t really feel like explaining the significance of where Scott had ended up. “We think he’s walking into a trap.” 

“We?” Jeanie frowned, all business and analysis. 

“His mom- She’s coming too. She’s waiting downstairs,” Isaac said. 

“Do we have any idea what we’re walking into?” Jeanie was already opening the safe, arming herself and Romy beyond just her knuckles. 

“Honestly? No clue,” Isaac sighed. “If you guys don’t want to go, I understand.” 

“Come on, American. Did you think we came here to have a vacation?” Romy rolled her eyes. “I’ve been itching to do some damage since we left home.” 

Isaac felt a little calmer now. No matter what was waiting for them, he had two brilliant hunters and a cutthroat werewolf behind him. When Melissa had referred to them as his _team_, Isaac had been struck by how well that fit. Not a pack by any means, but something more focused, more mission-oriented, at the moment than whatever family meant to him. 

If Isaac thought introducing Sasha to the Argents was weird, introducing that group to Melissa was even stranger. 

“So, uh. This is Ms. McCall. She’s Scott’s mom,” was Isaac’s awkward start once they got down to the parking lot at the front of the hotel. 

“Hello, Scott’s mom!” Romy was the first to break the ice, waving at her with her knuckles still on her hand. 

“And this is Romy, Jeanie, and Sasha,” Isaac pointed them all out. 

“You’re the people who have been looking after my boy these past few years? I appreciate it,” Melissa smiled, a hand resting on Isaac’s back. Isaac felt an almost giddy warmth in his chest at her words. That strange uncertainty that rose up from how much time apart was between them wasn’t gone exactly, but Melissa was doing quite well bridging the gap. Isaac had forgotten how grateful he was for all Melissa McCall had done for him and it seemed she intended to continue to do for him. 

“Isaac has hardly needed us. _He’s_ been helping the family plenty,” Jeanie said. Isaac grew more flustered. 

“Well, I’ll take credit. You’re very welcome. I don’t know what he would’ve done without me,” Romy teased. “No, really though- Isaac has saved my ass more than once.” 

“I love your accents,” Melissa said. “I’m sure you hear that all the time, but they’re lovely. It was good of you to come here with Isaac. It’s nice to know he’s had friends to support him over there.” 

“We can all get acquainted once we’re not on a rescue mission,” Isaac felt awkward under the praise. 

“Right, we’ll follow you?” Jeanie said to Isaac. “I’m guessing you two will take the lead?” 

“Oh- Yeah,” Isaac realized he was the only one who knew where they were going. And it seemed Jeanie was under the impression he would be driving with Melissa. 

“We’ll see you there, then,” Romy gave him a little nudge before pulling Sasha towards their car. Isaac was still surprised by how at ease Romy was with him, but it seemed she had a thing for befriending lost, traumatized werewolves. 

“They seem nice,” Melissa said as they returned to her car. “Very... French. I guess that shouldn’t surprise me so much.” 

“Yeah. They’re… Sasha has been a good friend to me the past few months and the Argents, Jeanie and Romy, they’ve been my family these past few years,” Isaac said. “Not that they replaced you and Scott,” he added quickly. “Or Chris or anything, but…” Isaac thought for a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.” 

Melissa glanced at him with a small smile as she pulled out of the parking lot. “So. Where are we going?” 

“Take Main Street up north until we’re out of town,” Isaac said. He was feeling more than a little anxiety, in fact, he was feeling more than a little _cursed_ as he instructed Melissa how to get back to that place. Isaac didn’t believe in god and had no intention of changing that stance, but if he walked back into that place to see Scott dead on the ground, there had to be something outside of this earth to blame. The parallels were a few too many. Melissa would be there too to see her son’s body just like Chris. Isaac would feel utterly helpless as the survivors desperately tried to pull themselves together. And all Isaac would be able to do is look at Scott, blood still pooling from the wound in his gut, his eyes glassy and unmoving… 

“Scott will be happy to see you,” Melissa pulled him out of his brooding. 

“Yeah?” Isaac hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “I know I haven’t reached out these past few years and… I know Chris came back and I haven’t even talked to Chris in forever I didn’t mean to shut you guys out and I am so sorry I didn’t come back sooner-” 

“Isaac,” Melissa stopped him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to justify yourself to me. Let’s just… let’s just focus on the present, okay? I know things don’t feel the same now, we’ve all changed over the past few years, but you were- you _are_ a part of our family and you’ve been a part of our family for years now. That doesn’t just get erased. And trust me, I _know_ Scott will be happy to see you.” 

Isaac smiled weakly, his stomach still in knots not because of the hunters they were likely to face soon, not even because of how much he hated where they were going, but because he couldn’t bring himself to believe Melissa. How could Scott not hate him for what he had done? And if not hate, surely he didn’t care about Isaac at all. Isaac didn’t know how this would have a good outcome. 

A dark back road and Isaac started to see familiar shapes. Old shells of concrete buildings overgrown by vines came out of the shadows. “Stop here,” Isaac said quietly. “We should walk from here. Otherwise, they’ll see us coming,” a dozen yards ahead were the iron gates. There was too much blood on the soil here and Isaac desperately hoped there wouldn’t be any more. 

“No other cars,” Jeanie pointed out as they gathered on the side of the road. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t here.” 

“What’s the plan, then?” Romy looked to Isaac. Isaac looked to Jeanie. 

“You’re the strategist here,” Isaac said. “I was just thinking we’d sneak up and see what was there.” 

Jeanie sighed, “do you know anything else? Any idea what we’re walking into?” 

Isaac looked to Melissa. She frowned, “well, Scott wasn’t expecting something very big. He does this stuff all the time now, still scares me half to death, but I didn’t think this would be any different. Some of the pack went with him, but Scott didn’t want to wait for Chris or anything. He… he left home maybe four hours ago. I thought it would just be routine. He should’ve called me a while ago. So, maybe it was more than he first expected,” Melissa sighed. She looked tired. “I should’ve asked more questions.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Isaac said. It felt strange for him to be the one reassuring her. It had been the other way around far too often before now. Then again, Isaac wasn’t the same emotionally damaged kid who had stumbled into her house all those years ago. Not to say he was wholly different to that after the past six months. “Jeanie? Any ideas?” 

“As you said, I think we should go in carefully. Once we’re closer, we should try and keep quiet, signal, don’t speak. Be prepared to pull back if it’s something we can’t handle,” Jeanie said. “I have…” She reached into her bag, pulling out something that looked almost like a firework. “I don’t know what you call them in English but they make flashes of light and loud noises. If we’re outnumbered the best thing we can do is disorient them.” 

“Jean, the _good guys_ are werewolves. It’ll mess them up way more than the hunters and that still puts us at a disadvantage,” Romy pointed out. 

“Yeah, no flashbangs if you don’t mind,” Isaac winced at the thought. “Sasha? Are you still good with this?” Isaac checked in with the only other werewolf in their party who had been incredibly quiet, unsurprising, but still, Isaac had to be sure. 

Sasha’s claws were already out, eyes glowing gold. He nodded. 

“Nothing else to say, then,” Romy cracked her neck and bounced from foot to foot, gearing herself up. She took the lead as they approached the gate. As they got closer Isaac noted there were bright lights shining up ahead, somewhere back further from the gate. Jeanie tapped Isaac on the shoulder, pointing to her ears. 

Isaac took the cue and let his advanced hearing wander forward. Voices, but not the sound of fighting. Isaac nodded to a building to the right. The sun had set. An additional benefit to their adversaries being human was that they could not see into the dark, especially with bright headlights narrowing their vision. 

They slowly approached, Isaac leaned around the corner of the building, a hand raised to stop his friends. 

Isaac processed everything in an instant. There were more than a few hunters, many of them with people pinned to the ground, but Isaac wasn’t focused on them. He was focused on Scott, only a few feet in front of them, just out of the shadows, flat on his back with a boot pressing down on his throat. 

The man standing over Scott was speaking. Isaac was not processing these words, he was focused entirely on the fact that the man was raising his gun and leveling it with Scott’s head. No thought, just action. In an instant, Isaac stepped out of the darkness, almost appearing like an apparition beside the man about to put a bullet between Scott’s eyes. Isaac pulled the trigger. 

All hell broke loose. 

In his immediate vicinity, Isaac flinched at the spray of blood covering both him and Scott as the hunter’s body collapsed. Beyond that, his friends began picking off the other hunters, each of them picking a target and moving forward with utter confidence. 

Isaac, without time to process seeing Scott for the first time in far too many years, extended a hand towards him. Scott stared at him, shock evident for reasons beyond the blood covering him, but that pause only lasted for a second. Scott took his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, like there was no time or distance between them. Trust. 

They are still badly outnumbered and the hunters had gotten over their surprise, but Scott and Isaac were back to back now, eight hunters trying to get the alpha back on the ground, but Isaac had no intention of letting them get any closer. Isaac had an inhumanly fast trigger finger and before any adversary could even raise their weapons Isaac shot them down. Those that got past his bullets were met by his or Scott’s claws. Out of the corner of his eye Isaac could see Romy tackling someone to the ground, he could hear more gunshots returning enemy fire from Jeanie and Melissa, and he could recognize Sasha’s vicious snarls as he tore into one hunter after another. 

They weren’t outnumbered for long. 

Just as Isaac was starting to think they might have things under control, he heard Scott hit the ground behind him, Isaac turned quickly, seeing Scott struggling to stand with a bullet in his side. Isaac shot the woman responsible, but before he could help Scott to his feet once more he felt knives slash through his back in a way he found terribly familiar. Scott, one hand pressed into the wound underneath his ribs, grabbed onto the collar of Isaac’s shirt and dragged him closer, pushing Isaac behind him. Scott’s free arm went to block the knife still bearing down on them, Scott struggled to hold him back, the knife tearing into his arm. Isaac shot the man in the chest. Isaac felt someone else grab onto him to try to pull him away from Scott, a knife pressing into Isaac’s throat, but before he could even try to defend himself their hold on him was lifted. He looked up to see Romy bashing the hunter’s face in with her knuckles. She didn’t even bother to look up at him as she bludgeoned the man into unconsciousness. 

He was the last standing enemy, it seemed. Isaac did a headcount of the survivors, but he found himself unable to recognize some of the pack. Stiles and Lydia were there, of course, but he couldn’t find Kira. And there was a strange young werewolf who looked like he should still be in high school as well as a girl who he recognized but couldn’t place. Isaac refocused, helping Scott to his feet. 

“You’re… you’re taking my pain,” Scott grew puzzled. “Why’re you doing that..?” 

“Force of habit, really,” Isaac muttered, a hand going around Scott’s waist to help him stand as one of his arms was bleeding profusely and the other was trying to stem the blood still coming from the poisoned wound. “Ms. McCall,” Isaac called over to her, “I think we could use your first aid kit.” 

“H-Hey mom,” Scott smiled weakly. “What’re you doing here?” 

Melissa tutted him, motioning for Isaac to sit him down beside her. “Saving you, as per usual,” she teased, frowning at the bullet wound in her kid’s side. 

“Romy-” Isaac, knowing that Scott would be okay, turned back to his friends. “You guys okay?” 

“We’re great!” Romy grinned, her hands incredibly bloody. “Jeanie’s fine. Sasha got grazed by a bullet I think, but he’ll be okay. Jeanie is taking care of the wolfsbane.” 

Isaac nodded, relieved. His two human friends were less likely to manage after taking a bullet. And he was glad Jeanie was prepared enough to patch Sasha up as well. 

Isaac turned back to the McCalls where Scott was trying to stand, his mother all but holding him down. 

“Is everyone okay?” Like Isaac, Scott was looking to his pack for injuries. 

“Scott, for once in your life focus on yourself,” Melissa sighed. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but those hunters weren’t here for Stiles.” Definitely not. Isaac noted that none of the others had had _eight_ hunters surrounding them. None of the others had been on the ground about to be shot in the head execution-style. Isaac could guess why, but he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble Scott had found himself in these past few years. 

Isaac didn’t know what to do with himself now, he stood, unsure between Scott and his friends. And he certainly didn’t know what to do with himself when Scott looked up at him and smiled like _that._ “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Isaac replied. It was almost pathetic, the two of them just staring at each other. Scott looked good, Isaac thought. Other than being a little bloody, he looked okay. Older, but in a way Isaac couldn’t really place. He wasn’t _aged_, he was still young, but to say he looked the same as he had in high school, mourning and unsure, simply wasn’t true. At 20 years old it was almost like Scott’s edges had been filled in. He seemed so steady now. Scott had always been stability for Isaac, but in the end the whole world had been off balance. Now, it was so different to what Isaac had left behind all those years ago. Maybe Isaac was projecting, but part of him thought that despite Scott’s calm certainty, he looked tired. 

Of course, part of that might have to do with Scott having almost been murdered a few minutes ago. 

“God, it’s like you two are sixteen again,” Melissa broke the silence, getting to her feet now that she knew her son wasn’t going to bleed out. Rather than help them get over their awkwardness, she left to check on the others of the pack. 

“So,” Scott got to his feet, wincing a little unsteadily, “you’re… here.” 

“Yeah, I am,” Isaac didn’t know what to do now. There had been this almost electric moment between them when Scott had taken his hand without any hesitation, they had fought side by side like nothing had changed between them, but now as it came down to words they were frozen. 

“Chris said you were coming back, but…” Scott looked him over. “I didn’t really believe him.” 

“You… you didn’t?” Isaac was ridiculously nervous. He just wished he could tear down whatever barrier was between them. Isaac had dreaded this particular tension for years and now it was finally here. 

That classic Scott McCall smile seemed softer, less playful than he remembered. It still left Isaac with an ache in his chest. “I’m glad.” Scott took Isaac by surprise with a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Isaac reciprocated, so unsure of himself now that he didn’t hold on too tight. Isaac had missed Scott’s warmth and he was afraid that if he let himself fall fully into this embrace he would never let go. It was so strange how despite years of distance, Isaac smelled him, the same shampoo and the particular scent of the McCall house alongside something that was just Scott, and all he could think was _pack._ Maybe ‘think’ was the wrong word, he _felt_ it. A feeling he thought he had forgotten, something deep in his chest that linked him far beyond anything human. Scott showed no sign of coldness in the way he held onto him, but despite how familiar that hug felt, when Scott pulled away Isaac just knew that Scott looked at him differently. 

“You…” His eyes were still that warm brown but Isaac felt like they were the eyes of an alpha, like Scott was looking right through him. “You look different. Not bad,” he added quickly. “But different.” 

“So do you,” Isaac said. 

“Wait a minute-” Another familiar voice that he found both fond and vaguely irritating came from behind him. “_You?_ What’re _you_ doing here?” 

This interaction a far easier one, Isaac turned around, “you mean you didn’t miss me, Stiles?” 

“I guess I assumed you got yourself blown up in France or something,” Stiles looked him over far less thoughtfully. “You’re like, super pale, dude. And your hair is all curly. You look like a damn vampire. Don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been hiding out in France- You got turned into a vampire?” 

Isaac rolled his eyes, “yeah, I’m almost as pale as you,” he said dryly. “Six months in Russia will do that to you.” 

“Russia?” Scott stepped up beside him. 

Isaac hesitated, “we’ve… we’ve got some catching up to do, don’t we?” 

“Yeah- What’d you mean _Russia?_ Don’t tell me Putin is a werewolf,” Stiles kept talking. He looked different as well, a little more built and put together, but Isaac knew he was the same old spastic and sharp-witted dork he remembered. “You’re pale _and_ you’re a hippy. Do they not have haircuts in Russia?” 

“You haven’t changed at all, have you, Stiles?” Isaac said. 

“Maybe you could say _hello_ before you start berating him,” Lydia joined them, giving Stiles a look. Not her usual scolding glare, but something much _fonder._ Isaac wasn’t sure what to make of that. Or what to make of her stepping up beside Stiles and putting her hand on his back. That was definitely more touchy-feely than the Lydia and Stiles he remembered. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Isaac.” 

“Yeah, kind of took me a while to get here, didn’t it?” Isaac grew sheepish, a hand going to the back of his neck as he was still unsure. Lydia looked much the same. Still stunning and composed, but Isaac was also glad to see her again outside of the state of mourning from before he had left. 

Lydia shrugged, “I’d say you picked a pretty good time to show up.” 

“Yeah,” Scott put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and Isaac resisted a shiver at the contact. Surely he was just touch starved from his isolation in Russia, right? Nothing more? “Thank you. I… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up…” He looked to Isaac’s friends curiously. “All of you.” 

“Well, you would have died,” the strange girl said matter of factly. “That hunter would have shot you in the head.” Isaac _knew_ her from somewhere, but he just couldn’t place her face. Maybe she’d gone to the high school with them? She even smelled familiar- but not like a werewolf, like something different- 

“Malia?” Isaac stared at her. She stared back with narrowed eyes. 

“Do I know you?” She didn’t sound hostile, exactly, but she had no filter, not on her words necessarily, but her tone seemed unnaturally cold. Inhuman, even. Although what would Isaac expect? 

“I mean- Not really, but… you’re that werecoyote. I was there when your dad was trying to kill you,” Isaac also lacked tact and was a bit too blunt. She looked far better now than when he had last seen her, naked except for a jacket, hair matted and eyes wide and feral. She looked… well, normal. But there was something a little wild about her. It made Isaac think of the more feral packs he had encountered back in Russia. 

“Oh. I don’t really have a clear memory of that day, it wasn’t exactly a great one for me, being forced back into a human body and all, so, sorry I don’t recognize you,” Malia said dryly. 

“Malia, this is Isaac,” Lydia took over. “The one I told you about? In France?” _Told you about._ Why the hell would Lydia have told Malia about him? 

“Ohhh,” Malia had a dawning understanding that Isaac utterly lacked. “You’re the guy who ran away to Paris. I tried to do that,” she nodded understandingly. “They dragged me back in, though. My flight got rerouted and I had to go look at some rats and it ended up being a whole thing.” 

Isaac had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. 

“Okay..?” Isaac spoke softly, glancing at Scott as if he would have an explanation. Scott shrugged a little hopelessly. 

“Scott, who are these people?” The younger boy frowned suspiciously at Romy and Jeanie. Not that Isaac blamed him, considering the two Argents were basically in the same gear as the hunters dead on the ground. 

Scott looked to Isaac, “this is Isaac. He’s…” Scott didn’t seem to know how to explain what Isaac was. Isaac’s first instinct was to say _I’m Scott’s first beta._ But looking around at the rest of the people here… he didn’t know if he had the right to say that anymore. 

“He’s an old friend,” Lydia spoke up first. A pause. “Part of the pack from a while ago.” The way Lydia said that… Isaac wasn’t sure if she meant he was still a part of the pack or _used_ to be a part of the pack. 

“And who’re you?” Isaac eyed the boy with maybe a little contempt. Isaac wasn’t sure where Scott found this kid. He hadn’t expected Scott to adopt teenagers into his pack. It felt a little Derek-esque. 

“I’m Liam. Scott’s beta,” Liam’s arms folded over his chest a little defensively. 

“Oh?” Isaac’s initial suspicions were confirmed. “I should’ve known you’d keep picking up strays,” Isaac relaxed into fondness at something so typical of the Scott he remembered. “You never could say no to lost omegas.” 

A strange sort of silence. Almost uncomfortable. 

“Actually, Scott bit Liam,” Malia broke it. 

Isaac turned back to Scott, “you _what?_” Isaac wasn’t sure if he was angry or not. He had fully expected Scott to be angry with him when he came back, Isaac had left him and never contacted him after all, but he hadn’t imagined it being the other way around. 

“I- I had to,” Scott seemed equally surprised by this turn of events. 

“You mean you didn’t _ask_ him?!” It was a full 180. Isaac was reproachful now. Maybe Scott had changed more than he had first thought. Scott McCall, biting someone without their permission, after what Peter did to him... “He’s a _kid._” 

“Look, man, you don’t understand,” Liam was the one who stepped in. “I was about to like, fall off a building, and this guy was trying to pull Scott away so he couldn’t grab me with his hands so he-” 

“So he bit you,” Isaac was struggling to process this absurdity. 

“Isaac? You okay?” Romy stepped up beside him, unsure of what the appropriate response was at the moment, only that Isaac clearly upset. 

Liam continued to explain, “I was mad too at first. I freaked out when he kid-” 

“Ah, maybe don’t,” Stiles put his hands on Liam’s shoulders, standing just behind him. 

“Don’t what, Stiles?” Isaac snapped. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but we all got over this a long time ago. Scott _had_ to otherwise I would be dead right now,” Liam said firmly. “So there. You just showed up here out of nowhere so don’t yell at Scott over something you don’t understand.” This kid was _aggressive._ A lot more than Isaac thought he would be over something like this. Although he did have a point. Isaac didn’t have the right to judge for something he hadn’t even been here for. And it did sound like Scott hadn’t done it carelessly, even if Isaac was struggling to process the logistics. 

“Why are we talking about this when you brought hunters with you? _You_ look like a hunter,” Malia interrupted again. Isaac had noticed how Malia, Liam, and even Scott were keeping their distance from Isaac’s friends. 

“You see, _they_ understand where I come from,” Sasha said with an approving nod. He hesitated, “_they do not like the hunters, right? Is that what the coyote said?_” He verified in Russian. Isaac was surprised he had kept up with the English conversation at all. _Isaac_ was struggling to. 

“_Yes. But considering they just helped save everyone and have saved you maybe you could set aside your fears,_” Isaac responded in turn, unable to deal with Sasha siding with them when he already felt distanced from his old friends. He looked back to the group and continued in English. “These two,” he nodded to Jeanie and Romy, “they’re Argents. _Proper_ Argents, not Gerard’s fanatics. Surely Chris has mentioned something about our family in France?” Isaac frowned. 

Scott stared between Isaac and Sasha. Isaac noticed the others were doing the same. Not to mention Stiles was definitely mouthing to Lydia, _’our’ family?_ as he had noticed that Isaac had implied he himself was an Argent. “I… I didn’t know you spoke Russian,” Scott said. 

“What-? Yeah, I mean, French too, obviously,” Isaac grew annoyed. He supposed he had changed a lot these past few years, but he didn’t have the patience for his old friends to get over their whiplash. “The Argents have been busy dealing with some dangerous stuff in Europe, but once that’s handled, Scott- you’re going to have more help from our side of things,” Isaac managed to say what he had intended to all along. 

“The- I knew Chris had family in France, of course, but… How many people are we talking about here?” Scott’s focus shifted, clearly intrigued. 

“Um,” Isaac counted it up in his head. There could be up to a hundred people in the main house, but Isaac knew there were outposts all over the world. As well as connections outside of the family. “A few hundred? I don’t know how many Valerie -the leader -will be able to spare, but… it’s something.” 

“And why haven’t you brought this army of hunters over here before?” Stiles interrupted. 

Isaac gave him a scathing look. He would never admit it, but he had missed arguing with Stiles. Less so now as he felt a bit surrounded, but he had nonetheless. “We were a bit busy dealing with a pack of serial killers. Look- Wasn’t the point of this to make introductions?” 

“Was it?” Malia said. 

Isaac ignored her comment and continued. “This is Romy and Jeanie. They’re Argents. And this is Sasha. He joined me from Russia.” 

“You both smell nice,” Malia once again threw Isaac off completely. “Not the hunters,” she crinkled her nose at the thought, “but you and the other werewolf. You smell like the woods.” 

Isaac and Sasha had been out of the Russian wilderness for a week, but apparently it took longer than that for this feral coyote to not be able to smell it on them. 

“_And_ you guys smell like _deer._” Malia grew even more intrigued. 

Liam looked irritated. “They smell normal to me.” 

Isaac had obsessed over the moment he would see Scott again for far longer than he would care to admit, so far he had killed a man, gotten a knife in his back, _and_ been overwhelmed by an incredibly unfamiliar pack. This was almost as bad as Scott being angry with him. Isaac knew he would need some time to process shooting a man in the head point-blank literally ten minutes ago alongside a dozen other horrible factors of his reality in the past few weeks, but right now he was struggling just to process Malia and this Liam kid. 

“Why don’t we just head home, okay? This isn’t the best place to catch up,” Melissa, his saving grace like always, put in her own thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Scott turned back to the rest of his pack. “Stiles?” 

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles nodded, getting out his keys. 

“Don’t tell me- Is that jeep of yours _still_ running?” Isaac had to say it. 

“You watch your mouth, Lahey,” Stiles shot back. 

“Hey, we’ll see you at the house, right?” Scott reached out to stop him as he turned back towards their car. 

“Y-Yeah,” Isaac hoped he didn’t look too wide-eyed. 

“Good,” Scott looked as unsure as Isaac felt. 

“Come on, American!” Romy called to him, leaning against their rental. “_You can be a lovesick puppy later,_” she added in French, reaching up to mess up his hair as he got closer. She paused, grabbing onto his shoulder and forcing him to turn around. “Christ- did you not think to have someone look at this?” She referred to the deep gouges caused by a knife slashing across his back. 

“Is it bad?” Isaac asked. 

“_Is it bad,_ he says,” Romy scoffed. “_Is it bad-_ Yes, American. Someone cutting into your back is bad. Jeanie- Get this stupid American some help.” 

“Maybe you should stop saying that considering, you know, _everyone else here_ is an American?” Isaac pointed out. Wincing as Jeanie cured the wolfsbane keeping his wounds open. 

“I will not!” Romy scoffed. “They’re _all_ stupid Americans. You should be glad you’re _my_ stupid American.” 

“Am I?” Isaac rolled his eyes fondly before gasping as Jeanie finished getting rid of the poison. Isaac hadn’t realized how much it had hurt until his skin healed. He pulled his tattered shirt back down. Isaac had forgotten how warm the California summer was, particularly compared to Russia. He had a feeling, had it been cooler outside, a good thick leather jacket would have stopped that knife. 

“Where are we going, Isaac?” Jeanie asked. 

“I’ll drive,” Isaac said. “Do you… Do you guys really want to go to the house with me?” Isaac felt unsure. Not only that, but Scott hadn’t clearly said his friends were welcome to come along. After how strange that first interaction was, he kind of wanted them there with him. 

“If you’ll have us,” Jeanie shrugged. 

“I will stay with you if you don’t mind,” Sasha said. “No offending, but I feel better with werewolves than with hunters.” 

“I thought we were best friends, Sasha,” Romy feigned offense, jumping in front of Jeanie to claim the front seat. 

“Also, a little warning you two- I’m pretty sure Lydia speaks French so, you’re not exactly being secretive switching languages,” Isaac said. He was just glad Lydia hadn’t been around to hear Romy’s _lovesick puppy_ comment. _That_ would’ve been the icing on the cake of this whole mess. 

“Whew. Thanks for the warning. I _definitely_ would’ve said something bad at some point,” Romy stared at him for just a moment too long. “So,” she continued. “Was it just me or were things kind of wonky between you and your old pack?” 

“Yep,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. “I… I fucking _antagonized_ him. Not even back more than ten minutes and I start yelling at him…” Isaac kind of wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel but considering he was the one driving he refrained. 

“Well, he bit that boy, didn’t he? That’s…” Jeanie seemed to side with Isaac’s initial assessment. “That’s sort of fucked up, isn’t it?” 

“I mean, if he’d forced the bite on him, sure, but Scott- it sounds like it was an emergency? A fluke, I guess?” Isaac trusted that they were telling the truth, but it was just such an odd occurrence to wrap his head around. “It’s was stupid of me to assume that _Scott_ would’ve done something like that…” Isaac sighed. “I think I’ve been around bad people for too long.” How could Isaac have thought that Scott would just attack some kid? It was _Scott._

“Okay, and another thing- I thought you told me about your pack? You obviously didn’t know he had a beta, but you never mentioned a werecoyote,” Romy said. “Stiles was the one sassing you?” 

“Yep.” 

“And the drop-dead gorgeous redhead was Lydia,” Romy was a little transparent, sighing overdramatically as she said that. 

Isaac rolled his eyes at that, “yep.” 

“What about…” Romy seemed to go through a list in her head. “What about Kira? The kitsune? Or that crazy twin guy? Or your first alpha, Derek? Wasn't he kind of in Scott's pack?” 

“I’m pretty sure Ethan skipped town around the same time I did, and Derek used to just disappear sometimes, so it might just be that, but I have no idea what happened to Kira,” Isaac felt a little afraid at that thought. He really hoped no one else had died. 

“Well,” Romy tapped against the dashboard with her knuckles absentmindedly. “I can’t say I like them yet, but Scott is cute.” Romy turned back to Jeanie. “He’s cute, right? For a boy? I’m not stereotyping, am I?” She also looked to Sasha for confirmation. 

“Cute like kitten or cute like boyband?” Sasha asked for clarification. “Yes. To both.” 

At the same time Jeanie said, with some annoyance, “yes, he’s cute you useless lesbian. I don’t even date and _I_ know that.” 

Isaac kind of wanted to open the car door and jump. 

“Well, American. We all think he’s cute and if he’s as sweet as you said he was, we like him,” Romy gave him their consensus. 

“Good to know,” Isaac said sarcastically, “but I think I’ve already fucked things up.” Isaac sighed, “_why_ did I think I could just turn up here out of the blue after three years and everything would be the same?” 

“He seems happy to see you, Isaac,” Jeanie leaned forward. “He invited you back to his house. That has to be a good sign?” 

“It’s just…” Isaac felt so worn down. “Everything is so different now. I don’t think it’s ever going to be how it was before, but still, I thought this would just make a little more sense… I don’t know where to go from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys think this would be easy? Isaac and Scott are finally together again... and it's a bit of a nightmare lmao. Nothing that talking about their feelings can't fix, right? ;)


	24. Chapter 24

Isaac couldn’t remember the McCall house ever being so crowded. It was ten people, including himself and his friends, and only two of those people were strangers to him, but still, Isaac still wanted to run.

The waves of chatter washed over him. Isaac hadn’t been surrounded by English like this in so long. It was still the most natural language for him, that would likely never change, but it was disorienting to hear the language that he thought in finally voiced aloud again. 

“I know, I _know,_” Scott was trying to calm Stiles. Nothing unfamiliar about that. 

“Look, man, next time just give me a little more heads up before you want to run into a trap. Just so I have a little more time to talk you out of it, okay?” Stiles said, arms folded over his chest. 

“You don’t need to tell me it was stupid, Stiles,” Scott seemed a little worn down. “I was… I was stupid and easily manipulated and we never should have gone there. I knew it was going to be a trap, don’t think that I didn’t, but… I still had to see it for myself. Even if it hadn’t been there, I would have gone. We can’t have those people moving back in on Beacon Hills.” 

“You know we’re not judging you, Scott. We went with you,” Lydia, forever the voice of reason. 

“I know, it’s not you guys, it’s… I didn’t think being there would throw me off that much but it did,” Scott shrugged. 

“And you should’ve waited for more support,” Malia pointed out. “And that’s coming from me.” 

“Isaac,” Melissa got his attention again. “Are you alright? Your friends- they’re not hurt, are they?” 

“No, Ms. McCall, we’re good,” Isaac was still distracted. “Thanks, though.” 

“Isaac,” Scott looked to him now and Isaac felt far too exposed. Isaac also noted Liam and Malia, who were closer to them, consciously moved away from Jeanie and Romy. 

“_Maybe we should have left the guns in the car,_” Romy leaned over to Jeanie and whispered in French. 

“You went back there. To…” Isaac knew that Scott had just been talking about this with his _real_ friends, but he had to bring it up. 

“Yeah. I did,” Scott said. “I don’t know how Monroe found out about Oak Creek. Chris… he covered it up pretty well, but maybe hunters talk,” he glanced to Isaac’s friends as he said this. “I don’t know.” 

“Okay, we’ve moved past the fact that Scott doesn’t think things through sometimes, but what about _you?_” Stiles pointed to Isaac. “You show up just in time to save our asses after what, three four years? And you’re all guns blazing now. You bring with you a werewolf that’s half the size of Liam and these two hunter chicks who are vaguely terrifying- that one,” he pointed to Romy, “didn’t even use her gun! She just bashed their faces in with her fists! And like, I’m not trying to say that because your werewolf buddy is small that he isn’t equally terrifying- like,” Stiles turned to Lydia, “did you _see_ him? He was tearing those hunters apart!” Stiles seemed to try and calm himself and his apparent confusion and he refocused on Isaac. “Like, really, what’re you doing back here?” 

Isaac had intended on updating Scott alone, but he didn’t feel like he had the right to ask for any of Scott’s time. Especially when his pack was equally confused by Isaac’s presence. “I… I was supposed to come back sooner,” was how he started. Isaac wasn’t exactly eloquent with words in the best of circumstances, but with so many eyes on him he was surprised he was even able to speak. “But things came up and there was stuff I had to do. I… I had another thing I had to- I had an- an _obligation-_” Isaac had no clue how he could justify this. And he had no intention of telling this entire group that Isaac had taken so long because the Argents had decided he was more useful as a soldier. The Argent leaders who he owed his loyalty to had kept things from him. His own friends had obeyed orders and _helped_ keep those things from him. Isaac didn’t want that to be how he introduced his old family to his new family. 

“Stiles, you know Chris told us he might be coming back,” Lydia took over. “We should just be glad that he did.” 

“He- No, Lydia. Chris didn’t tell _us_ that Isaac was coming back, he told Melissa that Isaac was going to be ‘back in contact’ soon. He didn’t explain that Isaac had been _out of contact_ to begin with. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned Isaac in forever. And suddenly he was saying that if all went well Isaac might be returning to the US. Nothing about that vagueness told us Isaac was getting a flight back to Beacon Hills next week,” Stiles said. “This isn’t meant to- I’m not trying to act all accusing and weird about it, it’s just surprising. I know I’m being a little- I don’t know, asshole-ish, but it’s been a stressful few weeks for all of us.” 

“Has it?” Isaac spoke up again, looking from Stiles to Scott. “I know I’ve got a lot to fill you in on, but… what have you all been doing?” A pause, no one sure of where to begin. 

“It’s late,” before Scott could reply Lydia continued. “We can all catch up tomorrow, but for now we should head out.” Lydia held onto Stiles’ arm and pulled him towards the door. “It’s good to see you, Isaac. And Stiles thinks so too even if he’s too ridiculous to admit it.” 

Lydia was halfway out the door before she called over her shoulder, “Malia, Liam- Do you two want a ride or not?” 

The pair somewhat reluctantly headed out the door as well. Isaac had a funny feeling that Lydia had cleared the room deliberately. 

Scott had been far too quiet and he seemed unsure of what to say now. 

“It’s late,” Isaac eventually spoke, feeling it was his job to give Scott the chance to push off talking to him. Isaac couldn’t just send his friends away, because then Isaac would be stranded at the house, and he didn’t want to impose after so long. Why was this so difficult? It had taken Isaac weeks to settle at the McCall house the first time around and now all of that progress felt stripped away. “Lydia’s right we should-” 

“You want to go back to the hotel now?” Romy asked. 

“A hotel?” Scott seemed surprised. “You’re…” Isaac waited for him to continue, a strange longing forming that Scott seemed disappointed. “I don’t know why I-” Scott shook his head. “Stupid of me. I thought you might be staying here, but I guess that wouldn’t make sense. You’d want to stay with your friends-” 

“No,” Romy interrupted. “He definitely does not. He’s running on Russian time anyways, he won’t sleep.” 

“Romy-” Isaac sighed. “You shouldn’t-” 

“I told you I’ve been working nights, Isaac. I wouldn’t mind the company if you’d want to stay here,” Melissa said. “And your bedroom is still here, even if a lot of Chris’s junk is up there right now.” 

“I shouldn’t-” Isaac still felt like it wasn’t his place. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed,” Scott said. 

“I mean, did you _want_ me to stay here?” Isaac frowned. 

“_Yes!_” Melissa said exasperatedly. “Obviously yes! How about you two stop talking around each other and we just move on?” 

“I wholeheartedly agree, Ms. McCall,” Romy said. “So, we’ll see you tomorrow, American?” 

“I…” Isaac looked to Jeanie and Sasha a little helplessly. “Sasha? You’re okay with this? I thought you’d rather be around werewolves than hunters?” 

“Well, they’ve grown on me,” Sasha shrugged. “I’ll see you later, Isaak.” 

It had taken very little work on Isaac’s part to have a moment of calm with Scott, as everyone else had done the work for him. He had no idea what to do now. 

“So,” Scott smiled. Isaac couldn’t describe how much that made his heart ache. Scott’s smile had never seemed more gentle. “What’ve you been up to?” 

“Nothing exciting,” Isaac shrugged. “What have _you_ been up to? Things are… more than a little different around here.” 

“Why don’t you boys go out?” Melissa reminded them of her presence. “And you owe me a pint of ice cream,” she grew more scolding. 

“Really, mom? Now?” Scott rolled his eyes at his mother which she did not seem to appreciate. 

“You, Scott McCall, finished it and didn’t throw it away so yes now,” Melissa shook her head. 

Scott turned back to Isaac, “do you… do you want to go out?” 

Isaac glanced to Melissa. “I don’t think we have a choice.” 

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Melissa sighed. 

Scott’s bike was the same. Isaac hesitated for a moment before getting on behind him. Isaac hadn’t been this close to Scott in four years. Unless he counted half-carrying him when he had a bullet in his side; Isaac didn’t want to count that. Things weren’t _right._ Nothing about their interactions thus far had been the same as the Scott he had left behind. Isaac had known things would be different, but there was this _wall_ between them. Isaac had his arms around Scott’s waist as they took to the quiet streets of the Beacon Hills suburbs, but it was like he wasn’t even there. Isaac was almost afraid to be this close to Scott, and part of that fear was that he couldn’t _read_ Scott anymore. Scott had never been entirely transparent to him but there had been a time where Isaac could at least trust in the familiar. 

Isaac had none of that and it felt terrible. All this uncertainty to be alone with Scott, and not just because Scott was unpredictable to him now, but because Isaac wasn’t the same boy who had ran from Beacon Hills so few years ago. Isaac didn’t recognize himself with Scott. He knew that even if Scott hadn’t changed things would never be the same because Isaac didn’t fit into the space he had left behind. For more than a few reasons considering the past few months. 

“Mom seems glad to have you back,” Scott spoke as they parked outside a convenience store a few blocks from the animal clinic. Isaac stood back, hands in his pockets as Scott wandered the aisles. “I’m sure Chris will be too.” 

“Have you seen Chris lately?” Isaac watched Scott carefully. _Mom seems glad to have you back._ Meaning Scott wasn’t glad? Isaac was reading into everything too much, he knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to stop. 

“Yeah. He… he only left a few days ago. They had something to take care of down in Mexico. Chris- He’s been trying to get the Calaveras to our side, to our side properly a least, they’ve been… more passive than anything. Which I guess is better than all of them joining Monroe. Not to say some of them haven’t...” Scott sighed, staring at the shelves blankly. “The only reason they haven’t I think is because the Calaveras don’t want to bow down to another hunting faction. But knowing Monroe, she’d find a way to make it more appealing. So, hence, they’re in Mexico.” 

“They?” Isaac asked. 

“Yeah, him and Derek,” Scott explained. 

“Chris and _Derek?_” 

Scott smirked, “yeah, Chris and Derek. Surprised?” 

“Shocked.” 

They went to the checkout, conversation fading out far too sharply. Everything was unnatural between them. Scott hesitated before taking the bag, “hey do you have any spoons back there?” 

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked, growing more puzzled by the minute. 

“Do you…” Scott paused, biting his lip. “Do you want to go up to Lookout Point? Mom won’t care if we take a little longer getting back.” 

“Yeah. That’s- Yeah, I’d like that,” Isaac still didn’t know what to make of this, but he hoped that these were steps in the right direction. 

The Beacon Hills preserve was more familiar to him now than the rest of town. Isaac knew the woods, even if it wasn’t always _these_ woods. Scott left his bike on the edge of the trail. They walked through the dark in uncertain silence. 

“So,” Scott broke the silence, kicking at rocks as they made their way uphill. “Are you… in school?” 

Isaac laughed scoffingly, “no. Uh, I wasn’t in a place where I could do my job _and_ go to University. If I even wanted to…” 

“Oh.” Scott didn’t seem to know what to make of that. 

“What about you?” Isaac said quickly. “You’re in Beacon Hills still.” 

“Just for the summer,” Scott shrugged. “I… I got into UC Davis.” 

“You did? That’s great,” Isaac meant it. “Is Beacon Hills surviving without you?” 

“Yeah,” Scott laughed. “I mean, I spend my weekends finding fights even when I’m at school, and there’s always Liam and his friends to hold the line.” 

“Liam?” Isaac smirked. “He seems… nice.” 

“Don’t lie, he’s a little…” Scott mulled it over for a moment. “...rough around the edges?” 

Isaac shrugged, “he was defending you.” A pause, more guilt weighing on him. “I’m sorry I was so… accusing earlier. I should’ve known you’d never do something like that.” 

“It’s okay. I get why you were worried,” Scott said. He picked up his pace as they approached the ridge. 

“I forgot this town actually was pretty,” Isaac said. One of the few benefits of the Russian wilderness was no light pollution, but Isaac could forgive California because the town glowed instead. The distant blur of cars driving between the bright city and dark swell of trees surrounding it. 

“Hm?” Scott looked over the cliff with him. “Yeah. I guess it is. Easier to feel that way when it’s peaceful around here.” 

“Is it?” Isaac sat down beside him, their legs dangling over the edge. “What’s different?” 

“We… we did what we set out to do, I guess. We protected Beacon Hills and now it is safe, but… the rest of the world isn’t,” Scott shrugged, handing Isaac a spoon. 

“Wasn’t this for your mom?” Isaac stared doubtfully at the butter pecan between them. 

Scott shrugged, “we’ll replace it on the way home.” 

Isaac sighed contentedly. “I haven’t had ice cream in six months.” 

“Really? No wonder you’re so in shape,” Scott muttered. 

Isaac hoped Scott hadn’t noticed his cheeks flush red, “So-” He tried to think of something else to talk about, something less serious than the fate of Beacon Hills. He had already talked about Liam, so, “Malia, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Scott seemed just as bashful and awkward as Isaac felt, “I mean, she’s a good friend. We dated for a while but… it felt more like it was out of necessity than real love. I do love her, but not like that, I don’t think.” 

Isaac felt his mind go blank. “Uhm. I just meant about her being a part of the pack.” Scott seemed just as frozen as he said this. “But wait- actually- what happened to _Kira?_” Scott looked a little more forlorn at this. “Oh no, did-?” 

“No, she didn’t die,” Scott said quickly, “she… she ran off into the desert with some Skinwalkers to learn how to control her fox spirit.” 

“Oh,” Isaac had thought his experiences over the past few years had been a little odd, but it seemed what had happened back in Beacon Hills was just bizarre. “And is that like, a full-time thing? Did you guys not want to try things long-distance..?” 

Scott laughed a little harshly, “no, no it wasn’t that sort of thing… she couldn’t just come and go _and_ learn control, it isn’t like us controlling our shift or anything, they thought it might take her centuries to fully control her powers, it’s like… it’s almost like she had a nuclear reactor inside of her. I know it won’t take her that long, she’s stronger than that, but she’s… she’s gone. And right now that’s indefinitely,” Scott sighed. 

“I’m so sorry,” Isaac wasn’t sure what else to say. 

“So, what about you?” Scott clearly wanted to change the subject. “Did you find some pretty girl in Paris? What about…” He frowned, trying to think of names. “Uh, Jeanie and Rosie..? Either of them..?” 

Isaac wanted to laugh and also shudder, “no. Nope, no. _No._ For so many reasons. Romy -not _Rosie_ and if she ever heard you call her something so cute she would punch you in the throat- and she is a whole lesbian, Jeanie doesn’t date, and even if that weren’t the case, they’re family to me. _Not_ an option.” 

“Whoa,” Scott raised his hands, “didn’t know it was so serious.” 

“Just. Gross. It’s like- It’s like if you were going to date Stiles,” Isaac tried to look for a proper comparison. 

Scott grinned in a way that Isaac could only describe as cheeky, “well-” 

“Oh, shut up,” Isaac rolled his eyes. “Then it would be like- It would be like _me_ dating Stiles. They’re like my sisters.” 

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fair,” Scott gave it a rest. “How do you… how do you deal with the way they look?” 

“What?” Isaac was absolutely bewildered. 

“They-” Scott seemed just as surprised that Isaac wasn’t getting it. “They both kind of look like _her._ Like Allison.” 

“Oh,” Isaac knew exactly what Scott was referring to now, but it just hadn’t occurred to him in so long. Romy had her lips and her eyes, and Jeanie those same high cheekbones and distinct jawline. He remembered being unsettled by this when he first met them, but now… “I don’t know. It doesn’t really bother me now because they’re… they’re my family. They’re not just echoes of _her_ anymore. And… I guess it’s nice to see parts of her still alive.” 

A pause, both of them realizing how close they were to talking about Allison. Years of time to process and grieve, but Isaac didn’t know if they were ready to reopen these wounds. 

Scott decided he wasn’t quite ready and changed the subject. “So, the Argents are like family, but did you ever find some girl in Paris? Like in a cheesy romance novel or something?” 

“No, definitely not,” Isaac shook his head. “Paris isn’t really romantic for me. Not the good parts of it, anyway.” A pause. “I actually kind of miss it.” 

“You’ve only been gone a few days,” Scott looked at him more carefully now. 

“Technically. I was… I was pretty much on my own for the past six months,” Isaac shrugged. 

“In Russia?” 

“Yeah.” 

Scott frowned. “You… you look _sick,_ Isaac. I don’t know how. You shouldn’t be able to _get_ sick. And- Chris left you in _Paris._ And then you turn up here and it turns out you were in _Russia_ and Chris barely knows what’s been happening to you and…” Scott bit his lip. “Are you okay?” 

A pause, Isaac looking out over the cliffside at the town he had left behind. “I’m not sick,” was how he began. He had no intention of trying to answer the question of _are you okay._ “And, well. I know I look kind of rough, but I don’t really know why. My working theory is…” Isaac didn’t want to get into all of this. The fact that he didn’t have scars was convenient because he didn’t need to open up so soon, but apparently there were other signs. “I was taking pain from a lot of people. Almost every day I was taking away as much pain as I could take from anywhere from two to six people at a time. And I… well, I’m _guessing_ that’s why I look like shit.” 

Scott stared at him, more than a little wide eyed. “Why were you doing that?” 

“How about this,” Isaac thought back to so long ago when he had first met Romy, that conversation had been painful, but it had yielded results. “A question for a question.” Scott nodded. “Your mom said Beacon Hills had changed. That you’d chased out these hunters and the town was safe. So… what’re you doing now? What _happened?_” 

Scott shook his head, smiling in a sort of annoyed amusement, “starting with the big questions, huh?” Scott stopped to think, hands fidgeting in his lap. “We got Monroe and her people out, but supernatural creatures are still drawn here. With the nemeton that’s the nature of things, I guess. But… we’re not protecting the town from them anymore, we’re not even protecting them from the town, Beacon Hills has got a lot more supernatural residents than we first thought. Different packs… some dead now, but more of them alive, have settled here. And a lot of the humans here know about us now. Not all of them are willing to defend the supernaturals, but they’re not planning on killing us either so I’d take that as a win. The point is- it’s not just protecting Beacon Hills anymore, it’s finding people who need protecting and bringing them back here. It’s stopping Monroe from spreading her violence. Beacon Hills isn’t threatened and it isn’t a threat, it’s a…” Scott laughed, “a paranormal refugee camp, I guess. So, things are different and the same. Like I said, I’m home for the summer, and my weekends aren’t spent at frat parties, instead I’m meeting up with whoever in the pack can make it and we’re pushing those hunters out of California.” 

“Refugee camp?” Isaac sighed. “Interesting choice of words, don’t tell me you have a bunker somewhere.” 

“I thought it was my turn,” Scott bumped shoulders with him, he frowned, puzzled, “but… how did you..? We’ve got two bunkers, I guess. An Argent one and a Hale one.” 

“Wait- _really?_” Isaac couldn’t help but laugh. “I was kidding- I mean, I wasn’t, but also I didn’t think there actually would be- That’s… a weird coincidence.” 

“Okay, then I have to know- what the hell are you talking about? Refugee camps and bunkers… does that mean something to you?” Scott was bewildered. 

“Um, yeah,” Isaac had no idea where to begin. “The reason I…” This line of conversation was leading somewhere he wasn’t sure he was ready to go. “The reason I didn’t come back when you asked for me months ago was because… well, I didn’t know. The Argents- they needed me to stay where I was, and they…” Isaac didn’t want Scott to resent the Argents, but the fact of it was he had the right to. “They kept it from me. That you needed me. I was undercover…” Isaac laughed, feeling a little ridiculous. “It sounds very James Bond-y but it wasn’t like that at all- There was this pack in Russia slaughtering humans, it was a warzone, and…” Isaac couldn’t help but get sarcastic, “I presented a _unique opportunity_ for the Argents. They’d never had a werewolf on their side like that, so… I agreed to join the pack. Send information back to my friends…” Another pause. “It was a weird few months.” 

Scott continued to stare at him, apparently waiting for something more. Isaac felt panicked as he had no idea what he was hoping for. “Okay, but… what does that have to do with refugee camps and bunkers? And… I want to know more about that whole deal, but I know it’ll be your turn to ask something next.” 

“Oh, yeah, well. It was at a refugee camp. This pack, they took in any werewolves who needed help, they actually seemed alright at first but… the Argents were right. They were killing people just because they could. So… I found my way into this old bunker from the Cold War and took whatever information I could,” Isaac knew he was being evasive, but he wanted to know more about Scott’s life recently and didn’t really want to talk about the mess that was his own. What Isaac _really_ wanted to ask was if Scott was angry with him. If Scott really even wanted him there. “Stiles and Lydia… Okay, this is kind of two questions, but let me have this- what’re they doing now? And are they… you know?” 

Scott laughed, “yes. They’re dating. Finally, honestly, they’ve been tiptoeing around each other for the past two years. Lydia- she’s going to MIT-” 

“No surprise there.” 

“-and Stiles is in training to be in the FBI.” 

“_Stiles?_” Isaac stared at Scott, waiting for him to tell him he was kidding. 

“Yes. _Stiles._” Scott nodded in agreement. “He actually did it. I mean, at first he was just an intern, couldn’t do much, but recently… He can actually shoot a gun now. I think he prefers his baseball bat, but he _can._ Like, I don’t think him and my dad are going to start a supernatural division or anything, but… I’m really proud of him.” 

“Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m actually impressed,” Isaac shook his head disbelievingly. _Stiles_ was going to be an FBI agent… 

“And-” Scott grew excited. “I just realized you never got to see this- but Lydia? Her banshee powers? It’s _not_ just finding dead bodies.” 

“Okay, so what is it?” 

“So, along with getting all those crazy visions, her actual screams? Lydia can _weaponize_ them. Like- Like you know in x-men how-” 

“Wait, like the x-men _banshee?_ Like, her screams actually make shock waves?” The childhood geek in Isaac was screaming to be let out. 

“Yes!” Scott exclaimed. “And- And _hellhounds_ are a thing!” 

“_What?_” 

“You know Deputy Parrish? He’s a hellhound! He can actually light himself on fire! And light other stuff on fire too, but it is _insane._” 

“How the hell does this stuff keep happening to you guys?” Isaac shook his head. “All I saw in Europe was werewolves.” 

Scott shrugged, “the nemeton, man. That isn’t even the weirdest stuff I’ve seen.” 

“Like-” 

“Hold on,” Scott stopped him. “My turn again.” The laughter and excitement faded and Isaac hated how worried Scott looked. “Why… why were you taking away people’s pain, Isaac?” 

The way Scott said his name alone was enough to make Isaac want to melt into the ground, but the subject matter made it even worse. This exchange of questions had been Isaac’s idea but he had been too cowardly to ask what he really wanted to so instead he was forced to be vulnerable around Scott at a time when Isaac wasn’t sure if they knew each other anymore. 

“To get information from the Volos - the Russian pack - I agreed to… to clean up the human prisoners. They’re… they’re mostly born wolves, you see, and they didn’t know how easy it was to kill a human,” Isaac sounded so numb. Scott shuddered at his words. All the terrible things Isaac had participated in… he had been so afraid of what Scott might think and now he couldn’t stop himself from telling him. “I had to. That bunker, that was where they held meetings and kept all of their information and my friends _needed_ that. Otherwise… more people would die. And I’m sure you’ve guessed this bit by now but when I had to _take care of_ the hunters they captured… I was fixing them up after they’d been tortured. I was keeping them alive so they could be tortured _more._ And I-” Isaac’s voice shook now and it felt like the dry California air had been sucked out of his lungs. “I couldn’t just sit back and _do_ that and taking away their pain it was the only thing I could do, and I knew I was overdoing it and that there might be consequences but it was all I could do and it got _worse._ I- I did something- I-” 

“Isaac, you don’t have to keep going,” Scott stopped him, he reached out to take Isaac’s hand but Isaac flinched away. He didn’t think he _deserved_ Scott’s compassion. Not after what he had participated in. 

“No but I _do_, Scott. Because through all of that I kept on thinking that I was going against everything you believed in. Everything you taught _me_ to believe in, I know it’s so stupid, but-” Isaac stared over the cliff. He didn’t want to look at Scott. He didn’t want to see him grow more and more disappointed in him. 

“You can tell me. We’ve all done things… these past few years haven’t been easy. For any of us. Whatever it is, Isaac-” 

“I need you to tell me something,” Isaac started. Scott stared, waiting for him to continue. “Okay- I-” Could Isaac really do this? “I need you to tell me what color my eyes are.” 

“_What?_” Scott knew exactly what that meant and he now looked at Isaac with something almost like fear. “Why would-” 

“I haven’t looked at my eyes in months. Okay? I couldn’t bring myself to after-” Isaac sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I need you to tell me, okay?” 

“Okay,” Scott said softly. 

Isaac looked Scott head on, that alone made Isaac question if he could do this. How could he when Scott looked at him like _that?_ So worried and _caring._ If Isaac was going to come back here, the very least he could do was give Scott the truth. That was what he had been waiting for, right? He had refused to look at his eyes after all this time because he had been waiting for Scott. For Scott to either punish him or forgive him for this and so many other things. 

He showed Scott his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

Instead of fear, disappointment, shame, anything Isaac had expected, Scott looked confused. “They’re… they’re yellow.”

“What?” It didn’t click for Isaac. That had been an option, of course, but not one Isaac had really planned on. 

“They’re _yellow._” 

Isaac got to his feet, pacing unsteadily. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He was in no way relieved, rather he was _angry._ All this guilt and shame and somehow it didn’t count. 

“Isaac, please just- Why did you think they might be blue?” Scott tried to get him to refocus, but Isaac was now caught up in the strange messy confusion of this answer making logical sense, but not quite processing for him. 

Isaac had convinced himself through persistent dread that he was a killer. So much so that he refused to look at his eyes for months, he isolated himself on the full moons, he avoided Sasha, all to avoid seeing that ugly truth he had been so sure of. He should have had blue eyes, right? Isaac had been so sure, and maybe he had even hoped for that because at least then all this bitterness and regret, tears wasted on people he didn’t know, horror and self-loathing in the form of carrying the dead, at least then it would have been justified. 

“Isaac, please-” Scott, who had been just a bit too distant after all this time apart, was now far too open, too caring and honest that Isaac could only read it as pity. 

“I helped people kill themselves, Scott,” Isaac said harshly. He finally faced Scott again, so disgusted and ashamed of himself he _needed_ Scott to hate him too. So much progress had slipped away from him in less than a year. 

“You-” Scott seemed at a loss for words, just staring at Isaac, mouth hanging open slightly. Isaac, taking that as confirmation of his own guilt, tried to turn away from Scott, maybe part of him just wanted to get out of there, but Scott reached out and put his hands on Isaac’s shoulders, holding him steady. “Just talk to me. Whatever you did- Whatever you _think_ you did, Isaac-” 

“_Think_ I did, Scott? Really? I mean, _really?_ That’s what you’re going with? I- I gave the people I could’ve helped poison instead. I- I could have gotten them out of there and instead I delivered their suicide notes- don’t pretend that this isn’t _exactly_ what it sounds like,” Isaac snapped. 

Scott was still insistent on getting him to actually talk about this. Such an incredibly _Scott_ thing to do when Isaac had already found a way to chew him out. “But those people- they were suffering, right? You were just trying to give them a way out. There weren’t any other options-” 

“Yes there were!” Isaac was almost shouting now; furious that the universe wouldn’t let him hate himself in peace. “I could have gotten them out- want to know how I know? Because- Because I _did._ I helped my friend escape because I _knew_ him. I was so fucking selfish- all those people I let die- I could have saved them if I wasn’t a fucking coward-” 

“Isaac!” Scott shot back, pushing Isaac to silence. Isaac was quite suddenly reminded of how incredibly close to one another they were. “Please… It sounds like it wasn’t your fault. You… you gave people a choice in… in an impossible situation. Why are you blaming yourself for so much? Just- Take a minute, okay?” 

“No- Okay? _No._ I didn’t come here to repent in front of you. Or if I did I _shouldn’t_ have. I’m not looking for some Scott McCall forgiveness to make everything all better,” Isaac shook his head, “I- I still _did_ that, Scott. I was complicit in so much bloodshed and I only decided to do something about it because it was my friend. Do you not realize how _selfish_ that is?” Isaac stared at Scott emphatically, his hands balled into fists to stop their incessant fidgeting. 

Isaac didn’t have the right to any of this. He showed up out of the blue with all these notions about Scott and penance and loyalty and how could he expect Scott to respond to that? Isaac had been too obsessed with Scott and his beliefs for far too long. Had he expected Scott to see him as anything more than an old friend? Isaac had been a blip in Scott’s life for a matter of mere months. _Isaac_ was the one who had held onto everything Scott had given him because it was the only bond he had. Scott had friends and family and all sorts of people who care deeply about him. Just because Scott was the only thing holding Isaac together for so long didn’t mean Scott felt the same way. Scott just stared at him with that strange sadness that Isaac didn’t know what to do with. Maybe it was pity, he didn’t know; Isaac didn’t want Scott’s pity. 

Isaac’s shaking stopped, the blood pounding in his ears slowed, and he could only find more regret. He sighed. Isaac was still convinced he was pushing this burden onto Scott, “I… I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have talked about this now. And I am not going to keep talking in circles about this, especially not with you. Maybe I shouldn’t even _be_ here, I don’t know- I don’t want to dump all of this on you, it was a stupid idea to begin with. I just showed up and threw my problems at you, it isn’t fair-” 

“Okay,” Scott stepped back. “You don’t have to talk about it, I just thought-” Scott paused, that frown so intense on his crooked jaw. 

“What?” Isaac’s anger was drained away, his words softer now. He didn’t know what to expect of Scott anymore. 

“Why _did_ you come back, then?” 

Those words were a punch to the gut. “I-” Isaac stopped. He had no idea he could say to Scott that would explain it. Or maybe he did, but not something he could bring himself to say. 

“I’m not mad at you, for telling me all this. But… why are you _here?_” Scott was so gentle and so blunt at the same time and Isaac couldn’t read what Scott was feeling through all of that but he knew enough to feel all his regret more heavily. 

Isaac had something else growing inside his chest, something besides the shame, the anxiety, the guilt. It was something far more terrible. Isaac wasted precious seconds just looking at him. Scott. Those brown eyes had always drawn him in but now Isaac found himself looking to Scott’s lips, to the too little space between the two of them and how much he wanted to bridge that gap. It was _longing_ overtaking him. Because despite years apart, despite being with Scott now, Isaac wished for something more. 

Isaac couldn’t imagine a worse time to act on these feelings. If Isaac had any chance of salvaging the relationship he abandoned, he would have to bury them deep. He would refuse to acknowledge them, even to himself, just to be safe. As if any of this felt _safe._

Isaac didn’t bother to try and think of a proper defense. Isaac could only be honest now; as much as he could be. “I would have been here sooner, months ago if I’d known- A week ago I found out you needed me and I came here as soon as I could, because-” A pause, Isaac knowing too well that this wouldn’t fix anything between them, because there _was_ nothing between them. Just time. Just too much time and nothing could be done about that. “...because you asked. That’s why. Because you _asked_ me to be here.” Isaac finished a little helplessly because he didn’t know what Scott wanted from him. He didn’t have any answers. 

Apparently that wasn’t the answer Scott was looking for. Isaac could now glean something from Scott’s expression, all that gentle warmth Isaac had longed for, and he just looked _sad._ There was none of the anger Isaac had expected of him for years now when he thought of returning home, Scott just looked tired and hurt. That was far worse. Scott had kept his composure incredibly well since Isaac had showed up out of the blue, but that was cracking now. 

“Okay- so why didn’t you come home before that?” Scott finally spoke. “You were gone for _years_, Isaac. _Years._ Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you call? Chris came home _without_ you and still- nothing,” Scott’s voice shook for just a moment. “I know I didn’t reach out either, but I knew you needed time I just-” Scott turned away, a sigh far too weighted taking up the pause. “I didn’t know how long. I… I thought you were never coming back. Chris said he didn’t know. He had nothing to tell us from you, just that you were okay. But that wasn’t _enough_. I- I wanted to hear it from _you,_ Isaac,” Scott was still fighting back showing any emotion, but despite his best efforts Isaac could hear that tearful resentment in every word as Scott refused to face him. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again. I- I gave up on you. And now that you’re _here?_” A pause stretched on for far too long but Isaac didn’t dare speak. He had nothing to give. “I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. I thought I had let go of all of this, of my resentment, or whatever it is, but I never even had the chance to be angry because you didn’t leave _me_, you were just _gone._” 

“Scott, I-” What was Isaac supposed to _say?_ He had told himself to expect anger. He had told himself to expect rejection. Isaac’s regret as he stayed away longer made it harder to reach out and in turn that prolonged his self-inflicted pariahcy. Isaac had lived with the assumption Scott didn’t want him anymore. Maybe even Isaac had made peace with that. He had done his best to do what Scott would have done, to honor Allison, to make the Argents _better._ That kept away the guilt for a while. Until he considered the fact that he had no reason to stay away. 

In the past months as Isaac had grappled with the fact that he had chosen to go on this terrible mission before going back to Scott, it was like he had convinced himself that by projecting his own moral failings onto his feelings towards Scott that he could pretend the _real_ issue was the violence he had aided in and the deaths he had manufactured because the only other options were he had hurt Scott or Scott didn’t care about him at all. Now that he was finally here, it turned out he _had_ hurt Scott. Isaac almost would have preferred Scott not caring at all, but knowing that Scott would never do that was exactly why hurting him made Isaac remember how to hate himself. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come back,” Isaac had no idea where he was going with this, but he had to say something. “I don’t know. I was okay in Paris. I really was. Fucking _happy_ even, if you can believe that, but…” _you kept pulling me back. No matter what I did, you kept me tethered here. Anchored._ “...the moment I knew you needed me none of that mattered.” 

Scott sat down heavily on the edge of the cliff once more. Scott rubbed his eyes, head in his hands for just a moment. “Fuck…” Scott sighed and if Isaac didn’t know any better he’d think Scott was crying. 

Oh _fuck_, was Scott crying? 

“Scott?” 

“I’m fine,” Scott said in a way that was most definitely not fine. “This is so stupid… I got over this shit a long time ago. I thought I was over…” 

“What? Me?” 

“No- But maybe yes-” Scott sighed. Isaac joined him on the edge of the cliffside, looking down so as to not see if Scott was crying or not. He sounded surprisingly grounded now. “A few years ago… a lot of stuff happened and I… I almost lost the pack, I guess.” 

“...lost the pack?” 

“The logistics don’t matter- but I was really alone and… I think that was when I was actually mad at you. Or maybe that was when I actually, like, recognized that I might've been mad at you. Not because you had anything to do with what was happening then, it was just… a convenient trigger, I guess. After years of pretending you maybe just needed a little more time, and a little more, and a little _more_… I had to face the fact that you weren’t coming back. I was so alone and all I could think about was how you- not _just_ you, there was a lot more to it then and I didn't have the time to sort through all of that _and_ how I felt about you- but… you left me first,” Scott paused, as if waiting for Isaac to say something, but he could think of no response. “I got over it, but you being here makes me realize... maybe I didn’t get over it.” 

Isaac found himself being a little too blunt. “There’s nothing I can do about that now.” Scott said nothing. “But I’m here. And…” Vulnerability pressing to the surface. “I don’t want to lose you.” Somehow Scott always made him so weak. “And it almost feels like I already have.” 

Silence. Isaac was unsure if Scott was planning on responding. They stayed like that long enough that Isaac was nervous. He just kept his eyes focused on the lights of Beacon Hills and his ears focused on the wind in the trees instead of the heartbeat beside him. 

“You still feel it, right?” 

“What?” Isaac dared a glance to his right. Scott had been looking at him. It was such a deep and terrifying intimacy to look up and see that Scott had been staring at him all along. 

“The…” Scott hesitated over his words once more. “A pack bond, I guess. Whatever that is.” 

Isaac knew he was staring, he knew he wasn’t giving a reply and instead he had taken Scott’s gaze as an invitation to stare back. Isaac wanted to place a hand against Scott’s cheek. He wanted to brush against the scar underneath his eye, to feel his warmth, to lean in closer… 

Isaac needed to focus on where he was, _who_ he was. He wasn’t an option for Scott, surely. If not for a dozen other reasons than at least for the fact that he had disappeared for almost four years. This would only hurt Scott - hurt them both - more than it already has. 

“Yeah, I still feel it,” Isaac’s voice was almost too soft. Too weak and open for Isaac to feel safe. Isaac was crossing a self-inflicted boundary. Isaac would admit to this, even if Scott didn’t feel that bond back. It was so strange how Scott kept him grounded no matter where he had been, but now that they were together Isaac felt so untethered. 

Scott smiled, maybe a little sad still, but a smile nonetheless. “I do too.” 

Something like relief rose up, but Isaac knew that bond was just like that terrible yearning he felt- it didn’t change the fact that Isaac had been gone for a long time. Isaac didn’t want to smother this conversation in all the evils he had witnessed in the past months, but Isaac wanted Scott to know that Isaac didn’t just _feel_ that pack bond, tugging at his heart even stronger now, but that he had needed it. He still needed it. 

“I-” Isaac didn’t know how to explain it when he wanted to keep parts of it to himself. Isaac hadn’t intended on coming back here to give Scott another dose of his trauma to carry for him. The first time around was more than enough of that. “I didn’t know if I was really in your pack after so long, but I _felt_ like you were still my pack. And… I don’t know how to explain it, but that pack bond saved me. I mean that literally. When that clicked for me…” Isaac exhaled a laugh, “I should’ve guessed you’d somehow play a part in saving my ass from the other side of the world.” 

“Did I?” Scott’s dopey grin, the one Isaac had been looking for through all this uncertainty, took the breath out of his lungs. Isaac felt so ridiculously endeared to everything Scott did. He needed to get rid of these rose-colored glasses before he fucked something up. He wanted _Scott_ back, not some preconceived notion of Scott he had built up over the years. “Are you planning on telling me what exactly that means?” 

Isaac shrugged. Finally a certain peace was forming, not the same as it had been before, but peace nonetheless. Isaac was not damaging that with more horror stories. “Maybe later.” 

Another pause. Isaac could almost hear Scott thinking. That confused bitterness didn’t return, but a certain vulnerability did. 

“I don’t want to be mad at you, Isaac,” Scott said. “And… I didn’t think I was mad at you, but you leaving… I never really talked about it with anyone or processed it because… you know, we were both dealing with a lot of grief at the time. And then after that I just… I don’t know, paused my feelings towards you. It’s just been _messy_, and now it’s coming back to me because you’re _back._” A pause, Isaac waiting for Scott to continue. “I don’t want to waste time learning how to forgive you or whatever, because there’s nothing to forgive. I missed you and I didn’t know how to feel, but all of that isn’t going to be solved by me expecting an explanation because there’s nothing to explain either. So… I want to hear about your life and I want to spend time with you again. I want you to be a part of this pack because you _are_ a part of this pack.” 

Isaac kind of wanted to cry. There was no way in hell he was going to, but that tightness in his chest and his throat were more than enough to make it hard for him to respond clearly. Isaac was overcome by something more than relief. It was like only now, in the Beacon Hills preserve late at night, his shoulder touching Scott’s, only now did he feel like he was home again. 

“Thanks, Scott,” he spoke softly once more. The only response he could think of to quantify how he was feeling would involve kissing Scott, so he instead moved on. “We should get back. You must be tired and you’ve still got to replace your mom’s ice cream.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Scott got to his feet. “Almost forgot about that. _This_ is why you were always her favorite,” he teased. This time when Isaac got on the bike behind him, he held on a little tighter. 

The McCall house was quiet when they returned, Melissa having long since gone to bed. Working nights or not, it was incredibly late. Even Isaac was ready for some actual rest. Isaac hesitated on going upstairs. 

“Come on, dude. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight,” Scott whispered. 

Everything felt so oddly familiar, like he was moving back in time. Borrowing Scott’s clothes and going into his old bedroom, brushing his teeth in the guest bathroom, hearing Scott rustling around in his own, if not for the guns and crates filling up the corners of the room it might have been exactly the same. Isaac sensed Scott standing in the doorway. Isaac turned to face him. 

Scott was the greatest reminder that so much had changed. He stood there for a moment, taking in the room and Isaac back in it. Isaac knew they were both thinking the same thing. Both of them thinking back on countless nights with Scott crawling into his bed beside him. “G’night, Ise,” Scott finally spoke, hesitating once more before returning to his own room. 

Things weren’t the same, and maybe they never would be, but Isaac was calmed by the fact that Scott had hesitated. He had thought of being by Isaac’s side again and had lingered over the thought just as Isaac had. _Ise._ It wasn’t like his brother calling him Zack, it wasn’t even a real nickname. No one called him that save Scott and Allison. Isaac couldn’t describe the warmth that it gave him. The peace that was Scott McCall telling him things were still right between them. He was okay. They both were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a little shorter than usual, but after that sudden burst of comments over that cliffhanger, I couldn't leave you guys waiting :)


	26. Chapter 26

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Isaac sighed. The following morning Isaac had returned to the hotel to get some of his own clothes and then head back out to see his old friends. Romy had other ideas. “No, Romy, I’m supposed to meet up with Scott in like an hour, Lydia has lunch plans, so _no._ I will find an actual place to get a haircut _later_.”

Romy, hair clippers in hand, pouted. “Come on, American. You’re not getting a haircut any time soon. Let me! I cut my own hair all the time!” 

“You said you had an hour before you had to be there,” Jeanie pointed out. “That’s enough time for Romy to cut your hair.” 

“Oh, you’re really siding with her?” Isaac said. “Romy, how do I know you can-” 

“Not fuck it up?” Sasha offered helpfully. 

“Um,” Romy gestured to her own hair as an example, a tight undercut with short waves on top. It did look good on her, but that didn’t make Isaac any more inclined to trust her with this. 

“Fuck it- Fine, but do not shave it that close,” Isaac caved. 

“Yes!” Romy was way too excited for comfort. 

“And you two, stop looking smug,” he shot a glare in Jeanie and Sasha’s direction. 

“Sit on the edge of the tub. You’re too tall,” Romy said. 

“No, no- then how will I see what you’re doing?” Isaac had more second thoughts. 

“It’s either that or I get a ladder. I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Romy teased. 

Isaac’s dread only grew as the sound of the clippers buzzed in his ear and a shocking amount of hair came down around him. 

“Romy, you better not be-” 

“Shut up, American, you haven’t had a haircut in over six months,” Romy scolded him. “...do you want me to shave a design into the side?” 

“No. I most definitely do not.” 

An anxiety-inducing 20 minutes later Romy stopped. “Voila!” 

“That… actually doesn’t look bad,” Sasha peeked into the bathroom. 

Isaac couldn’t complain. He no longer looked like he had been away from civilization for the past six months. It was still an undercut like Romy’s, but much less extreme. The curls on top were shorter as well, but longer than the sides, which Romy had shaved, but not too close as she had promised. 

“Um, hello? You’re welcome?” Romy nudged him lightly. 

“Yeah, fine. Thanks, Romy. You didn’t fuck it up. But now I’ve got to get ready. Lydia does not appreciate it when you’re late.” 

“Mhm, good to know,” Romy said a little too wistfully. 

“Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone. I’ll be back later. You guys should go out. It’s not Paris, but Beacon Hills isn’t bad,” Isaac felt a little bad to be leaving them again so soon, but as he was just going to see Scott, Lydia, and Stiles, and they were leaving behind the rest of their pack, Isaac could only do the same. 

Isaac made it to the Mexican place downtown, seeing a familiar jeep already in the parking lot. 

“You’re late,” Lydia said with little malice as he sat down beside Scott. 

“You guys have waited on me for years you could wait a few minutes longer.” 

“Ouch. Harsh,” Stiles teased. 

Scott stared at Isaac. “You cut your hair. It’s been an _hour_, when did you have time to get a haircut?” 

“Uh, Romy. My friend. She cut it,” Isaac messed with it self consciously. 

“It looks good, Isaac,” Lydia said. 

“Yeah. I was just surprised,” Scott quickly agreed. “You look good.” 

A pause just a bit too long. “...can we stop staring at me?” 

“Yeah- Actually, I have a question for you-” Stiles sat up, hands already moving as Isaac was once more reminded of Stiles’ inability to sit still. 

“This’ll be good,” Isaac muttered. 

“Yeah- So, like, did you ever forget me?” Stiles asked completely seriously. 

Isaac smirked, “aw, Stiles. I didn’t know you cared,” he said dryly. 

“_What?_” Stiles looked genuinely offended. “Uh no- I don’t mean- I mean like did you _forget about me_ like a year ago? Or Peter?” 

Isaac was growing more baffled by the minute. “What’re you on about?” 

“Stiles- You do realize he has no context?” Lydia chastised him lightly. “So, have you ever heard of the wild hunt?” 

Isaac stared between the three of them, each completely nonplussed by the conversation. “...is that like, a pack..?” 

“No,” Stiles scoffed, “they’re undead- or spirit things or- I don’t know-” 

“The point is they could take people out of reality and erase all memory of them,” Scott translated far more calmly. “Or… we _thought_ all memory of people, but, the real question is, like a year ago did you forget about Stiles?” 

“Or did you suddenly remember him?” Lydia added helpfully. 

“Uh,” Isaac didn’t even know what to try and think of. He was still caught up on the _take people out of reality and erase all memory of them_ part. “No offense, but I did go months at a time without thinking about you guys very much,” _except Scott._ Isaac did not say that part out loud. Isaac thought back on it. “I have no idea. Even if I had forgotten you for..?” 

“Several weeks,” Stiles said a little grumpily. 

“-I don’t know if I would have realized it,” Isaac shrugged. “And I definitely wasn’t thinking about _Peter_ while I was gone.” 

“Well, that was unproductive,” Lydia concluded. 

“Yeah. You guys have a lot to fill me in on, huh?” Isaac glanced at the three of them. Maybe Isaac’s experiences over the past six months wouldn’t be as daunting to them as he had feared. “Before that, though. I want to order. I haven’t had good Mexican since I left Beacon Hills. Paris is the food capital or whatever, but they don’t know what they’re doing when it comes to American food.” 

Once they had ordered, Lydia continued the conversation. “You should tell us about Paris,” Lydia said. “You were there for three years, you’ve got to tell us more than complaining about the food.” 

“There’s not really much to say,” Isaac shrugged. “I don’t know what kind of stories you think I have, but once you get used to it, Paris is just a city.” 

“Why’re you being so boring?” Stiles groaned dramatically. “Don’t pretend you’re all mysterious and cool. Did you ever go in the catacombs?” 

“Uh, no?” Isaac scoffed. “Only you would ask that.” 

“I think it’s a reasonable question!” Stiles looked to Scott and Lydia for support. 

“Well, you’re the guy who goes into the woods to look for a dead body on a whim,” Scott pointed out. 

“No, that’s Lydia,” Stiles said. 

“_I_ don’t have a choice,” was Lydia’s retort. 

“Actually- Lydia, Scott told me you’re a superhero now?” Isaac teased. “When exactly did you figure out you could scream at your problems to make them go away?” 

“Eichen house. Senior year,” Lydia said far too mildly. 

Isaac stared at her, his mind taking a few seconds to process what she said. Even then Isaac thought he had to be mishearing her. “You… were… in Eichen house…” 

“Mhm,” Lydia nodded. “But as you said about Paris, there’s not really much to say,” she was far too smug. 

“Oh, I see how it is, Martin,” Isaac shook his head. “So are we talking about the Eiffel tower? The Louvre? Or we could swap horror stories- you tell me why you were in Eichen house, I tell you about one of the times I almost bled out.” 

“Wait, what?” Scott interrupted now. 

“Isaac isn’t special. We’ve been through weird shit in the past few years,” was Stiles’ contribution. “A little bleeding just means it’s the weekend. That’s nothing. I was _wiped off the face of the earth_ for a few weeks.” 

“Shame it didn’t last,” Isaac shot back. 

“Is that why you’re back in the states, huh? To mock me?” Stiles sneered. 

“No, but it is a bonus-” 

“Can you guys just stop? We’ve haven’t even been back together for an hour yet,” Scott sighed. 

“Oh, Scott, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Lydia said. “This is them getting along.” 

“No, I mean, I know they’re just like that- but back to the point, what’d you mean by _one_ of the times you almost bled out?” Scott refocused. 

“Hey, let’s make this fair.” He smirked at Scott, “a question for a question. Why were you in Eichen house, Lydia?” Isaac asked. 

“I mean, initially because my mom thought I was losing it, but later because a ward there was hoping he could use my banshee powers to figure out who was turning into a giant monster in their free time,” Lydia explained. As if that explained anything. 

“Oh. Good to know,” was all Isaac could think to say. 

“Okay, our turn. What’d you mean one of the times you’d bled out?” Scott asked. 

“Pause! Food’s here,” Stiles drummed on the table excitedly. 

“Thank god,” Isaac was saved by the bell. 

“What food did you miss the most?” Lydia asked a far lighter question. 

Isaac thought about it for a minute, mouth already full. Once he could speak, “apples. I haven’t had an apple since I left Paris like 6 months ago.” 

“_Apples?_” Stiles repeated. 

“Yeah, apples,” Isaac felt oddly defensive. 

“They don’t have apples in Russia?” Stiles asked. 

“I’m sure they do but not in the middle of nowhere,” Isaac said dryly. 

“Isaac, are you going to explain the whole bleeding out thing?” Scott pushed once again. 

“Or maybe why you were in Russia?” Lydia asked. 

“Whoa, slow down,” Isaac was already overwhelmed by all of this. He could make a list a mile long of all the reasons why the past few days had been a lot. Suddenly being surrounded by English, being back in town, old faces, and now being barraged by questions in a crowded restaurant. Isaac hadn’t spent time in a crowded place in a very long time. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine, a question for a question,” Stiles said dismissively. “Lydia answered the Eichen house one so-” 

“Actually, Lydia asked me a question. So it’s my turn,” Isaac pointed out. Isaac thought for a moment. “Is there anyone else in the pack I should know about?” 

“Uh, not really any main members, I guess? Well, Liam’s friend Mason. He’s new. I think you know everyone else,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, like Chris and Derek? Who are working together in Mexico?” Isaac shook his head. “Still surprised by that one. And- Wait- You mentioned Peter, don’t tell me he’s still lurking around, is he?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Stiles nodded. “He’s a changed man.” Lydia and Scott gave him a look. “I didn’t say _fully._ He’s still kinda creepy but now that he has a daughter, I guess-” 

Isaac choked on his drink, “a _what?_” 

“I’m surprised you don’t see the resemblance,” Lydia said sarcastically. “Malia. Peter slept with an insane werecoyote. Of course.” 

“I feel like I’m watching star wars…” Isaac sighed. “Any other cliches to tell me?” 

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Stiles looked to Lydia and Scott for any additions. “Maybe a few Deux ex Machina, some thanks to yours truly.” 

“Anything else I need updates about?” Isaac asked a little wearily. “Or any other players in town I should worry about? Don’t tell me Coach turned out to be a demon or something.” 

“As far as we know, no,” Stiles said. 

“So, I already told you deputy Parrish is a hellhound…” Scott thought a moment, “oh- there’s Theo.” 

“Ugh, not _Theo_,” Stiles grumbled. 

Scott ignored him, “apparently making supernatural mutants is a thing. Chimeras, combinations of different supernatural creatures, they were made in a lab by these crazy experimenters called the dread doctors. So this kid Theo- and some others, but… most of them are dead, they aren’t naturally… uh, supernatural, if that makes any sense. Theo is werewolf and werecoyote, I think? And that kid Corey- I don’t even know what he is, but he can turn invisible.” 

“I swear you guys are just screwing with me now,” Isaac shook his head. 

“No, I’m afraid Theo is very much real,” Stiles sighed, folding his arms over his chest. 

“He’s on our side now, Stiles,” Scott said. 

“What’d he do to step on your toes, Stilinski?” Isaac asked. “Call you out when you’re wrong?” 

Stiles looked both resentful and smug, “no, actually, the little bastard-” 

“Stiles,” Scott said warningly. “There’s no need to-” 

“I’m actually with Stiles on this one,” Lydia said. “Theo killed Scott,” she said before either of the boys could speak again. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Isaac frowned. “I’m pretty sure Scott isn’t dead, unless you have something else to tell me about.” 

“Nope. Scott is not dead, but that took some work,” Stiles added. He continued matter-of-factly, “Theo Raeken is a stupid asshole who tried to murder Scott several times and at one point succeeded. If it weren’t for his mom helping him heal, or restart his heart or whatever, Scott would not be here-” 

“But he paid for it and helped the pack,” Scott said pointedly, forever the compassionate leader. 

“Fuck that- where is this kid?” Isaac felt irrationally angry. Or perhaps his anger was perfectly rational, considering. 

“Oh, what’re you gonna do about it?” Stiles scoffed. “Kill him? Beat the shit out of him? Trust me, I’ve tried it all. He keeps coming back like a cockroach.” 

“Wait- Scott, why the hell have you forgiven him?” Isaac turned on him a little too harshly. 

“I haven’t forgiven him,” Scott said. “I just… I’m not going to pursue him over it. What, you think some revenge vendetta would do anything? He’s been punished enough. And he’s tried to do good.” 

“Mhm, he might’ve killed his little sister,” Lydia added. “_But_ he was also trapped in pseudo-hell for a while, so. Sorry, Isaac, but whatever ideas you have, he’s already been through worse.” 

“That’s a little more morally grey than your usual taste, isn’t it, Scott?” Isaac was still half-planning on tracking this guy down to do… something. 

“Look, I never said I liked him. Or that he was a good person. But there’s nothing to be done about him,” Scott seemed tired as if he’d had this argument - likely with Stiles - before now. “Isaac, you’ve asked plenty of questions. It’s definitely our turn. You said _one_ of the times you’d almost bled out- how many times _are_ there?” 

“Two- Wait, no, I think four,” Isaac mulled it over. “Twice in Paris, twice in Russia. Well, maybe three times in Russia, but I don’t think the first time counts because I healed.” 

“You’re not sure?” Lydia tilted her head to look at him, something between amusement and concern in her eyes. 

“You had to _count?_” was Scott’s response. 

“I’m still not impressed,” Stiles was screwing with him for sure. And Isaac found out he had truly missed that. “I- Hell, all of us have almost died more times than I can count in the last few years. What’ve you got, Lahey?” 

“Fine, you pick, _Stilinski,_ which one do you want to hear about?” Isaac shot back. 

Stiles thought about it for a moment, “let’s go for the two for one. You bled out consecutively enough that you only count it as one time?” 

“Yeah, well. The first one wasn’t a wolfsbane bullet, so, I stopped bleeding pretty quick, but the bleeding was internal so it was still messy,” Isaac wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell. Isaac had always been blasé about his trauma, but even he had to hesitate. 

“Internal?” Scott asked. 

“My lung,” Isaac clarified. “My lung filled up with blood, I was choking on it, I mean I couldn’t talk anyways so it didn’t matter-” 

“Isaac, why were you shot?” Lydia interrupted. 

“Ah. Good question…” Isaac didn’t know how to answer that. Did he tell them he was undercover in Russia for the Argents? Did he tell them the Solovyova attacked the camp he was hiding out at as retaliation for the same attack Isaac had warned them about? Where was the line between too vague and too much? “I feel like you guys tricked me into explaining the whole Russia deal,” Isaac tried to keep the tone light. “So,” Isaac thought back on his far more heated explanation to Scott the night before. He had no intention of repeating that. “I was undercover with this pack in Russia to send information back to the Argents. This pack was killing people, invading Europe, you know, creepy shit. And the Argents were kind of working with this group of hunters more in Eastern Europe, but that group… they definitely leaned towards Gerard’s side of things-” 

“You know about the whole Gerard thing?” Stiles interrupted. 

“Some,” Isaac said dryly. “As I was saying, when I was staying with that pack, those hunters, the Solovyova, attacked the camp and I got shot. Just an ordinary bullet in my lung, otherwise I definitely wouldn’t be here.” 

“First off, how would you bleed out from a regular bullet? And second, why’d they shoot you with a regular bullet in the first place if they’re hunters?” Stiles interrupted again. 

“I could probably explain that if you stopped talking,” Isaac said. He didn’t want to go into the details. Isaac was starting to regret his initial idea to trade horror stories. Had he really forgotten that if he had simply asked the three of them about the past few years they might’ve explained without anything being expected of him? “I was captured by the hunters, they wanted me alive that’s why they used a normal bullet, and once I explained I was working for the Argents they agreed to let me go, but the only way I could keep my cover was… well, apparently, a bullet to the leg. A wolfsbane bullet, obviously. It was a damn good excuse for why I was missing for a few hours, but I was also actually bleeding out by the time they found me, and there was the whole cutting the bullet out of my lung thing, which was a nightmare.” 

The three of them stared at him in fascinated horror, Stiles’ mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Scott,” Isaac turned to him, changing the subject easily. “Want to tell me how you _died?_” 

Scott actually looked embarrassed, “not really. Theo got me weak, and took a cheap shot to dig his claws in my chest. Next thing I know I’m jolting awake with my mom and Mason hovering over me.” 

“You know, I think Isaac might be a better storyteller,” Lydia teased. 

“What was I supposed to say?” Scott replied with a hint of sass. 

“Come on, Lyds, if Scott was going to explain every bit of nonsense leading up to Theo being a traitorous bastard we’d be here all night,” Stiles pointed out. 

“Isaac,” Lydia pushed on. “Tell us about your friends. The quiet one- he’s Russian, right? And the other two are Argents from France?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what there is to tell, really. I think you and Jeanie would get along. You’re both too smart for your own good,” Isaac said. 

“Jeanie is the girl with the eyebrows plucked too thin, right?” Lydia said, “that was unnecessarily mean. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. The old Lydia wouldn’t have apologized,” Isaac waved her off. 

“Hey, maybe freshman year,” Lydia rolled her eyes at him. 

“And the girl who used those knuckles- are her clothes always that… pointy?” Stiles asked. 

Isaac laughed, “yeah, pretty much. If it’s not spikes it’s patches.” 

“She kind of gives off anarchist vibes,” Stiles said. 

“Yeah,” Isaac said fondly. He didn’t say otherwise. “Romy takes some getting used to, but she’s my best friend.” 

“She is?” Scott said, but once he realized how insecure that sounded, he was quick to move on. “What about the Russian guy, Sasha? Why’d he come with you?” Scott asked. “You never really explained.” 

“Hey, it’s my turn,” Isaac said. He really didn’t want to explain why Sasha was there, because of all the other things he would have to explain leading up to that. He had a feeling ‘he wanted to come help’ wouldn’t cut it. “So, Lydia, when did you finally cave?” He nodded to Stiles. “Before or after he started training to be an FBI agent?” 

“Hey,” Stiles pouted. 

“I didn’t cave,” Lydia said and Stiles looked smug. “He grew up and became my _friend_ instead of the dumb kid with a crush on me.” Stiles seemed unsure if he should be proud of that. “At that point, I don’t know, it just kind of worked out that way.” 

“As long as you’re not being held against your will,” Isaac shrugged. “You don’t seem like the type to settle for that ‘nice guy’ bullshit.” 

“Oh trust me Stiles would never have gotten a date with me that way,” Lydia said. “The long-distance thing isn’t so bad. MIT is pretty close to Virginia.” 

“Can we stop talking just about me?” Stiles grumbled. 

“Yeah, _I’m_ not loving the long-distance thing,” Scott interjected. “I miss you guys.” 

“Aw,” Lydia teased. “But now you’ve got company,” she nodded to Isaac. 

“I mean, do I?” Scott turned back to Isaac. “Are you planning on being here for a while?” 

Isaac almost couldn’t take how intently Scott was looking at him, so earnest and caring. But Isaac knew that whatever yearning Scott might be feeling wasn’t the same as what Isaac was haunted by. “I don’t want to be anywhere else,” Isaac eventually spoke. Scott stared at him and for a moment Isaac thought he was going to say something more, but Stiles broke the tension. 

“Okay, tell us about the Russian kid, then. Why the hell would he follow you to the other side of the world?” Stiles asked. 

“I’m guessing he doesn’t speak English really well?” Lydia added. 

“Not great, but I think I can help him until he gets the hang of it,” Isaac said. “He…” _Why the hell would he follow you to the other side of the world?_ “I told him he needed to get out of there. That pack… the Volos was a goddamn cult. He almost didn’t leave. It wasn’t until-” Isaac cut himself off. Isaac just wanted to skip to the part where everything was normal. He hated that reunions involved so much talking. 

“Until what?” Scott asked. “You don’t need to tell us anything you don’t want to but… what happened?” 

“Once Sasha figured out it was a cult he agreed to leave with me. And I told him he could go with some emissaries I know, but he wanted to come with me. No idea why but he did,” Isaac said a little stiffly. He didn’t want to talk about the past few weeks in a restaurant. 

“Oooh, how irritatingly vague,” Stiles called him out. 

“You want to give me the details of every fucked up thing that’s happened to you in the past few years?” Isaac said with some genuine sharpness in his tone. “Right now? No? Then shut up and eat your food.” 

“Okay, touchy subject, got it,” Stiles stared with raised eyebrows. 

“Sorry,” Isaac sighed. He had forgotten what it's like to let his guard down after six months where secrecy to the point of hostility was a matter of survival. “I don’t mind telling you guys stuff, but maybe not right now in a public place. Don’t want to scare the locals.” 

Conversation dwindled during the rest of their lunch, more mindless topics like filling Isaac in on lacrosse and video games and other things that were important in America. Lydia spoke up after they paid. “Isaac, do you want to do something downtown? Have you gone anywhere since you’ve been back?” 

“I didn’t go anywhere when I lived here,” Isaac scoffed. 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Lydia sighed. “Let’s just go shopping, look around somewhere. Go see a movie, _something_ normal.” 

“Fine, I don’t care. I’d just be glad to get out for a change,” Isaac remained noncommittal. They began to wander the streets a little aimlessly, just talking. Isaac looking around downtown Beacon Hills, it was both so familiar and so foreign to him now. 

“You mean you didn’t go out when you were in Paris? Really?” Scott asked. 

“I mean, sometimes,” Isaac thought back on how many nights he had spent lurking in dark streets and noisy bars looking for a fight. Later followed by Jeanie and Romy dragging him outside every once in a while. 

“It's Paris. You _had_ to go somewhere. You mentioned the Louvre?” Lydia asked. 

“Ah,” Isaac grew sheepish, he had a feeling Lydia would have similar feelings to Jeanie on the Louvre. “I… I only ever went once.” 

“_Once?_ One of the greatest museums in the world and you went _once?_” Lydia was clearly doing her best not to sound so scathing. 

“It was… crowded,” Isaac shrugged, weaving through the streets of Beacon Hills easily. This town didn’t know the meaning of crowded streets. “And, I mean, like Romy said, most of that stuff is stolen anyways.” 

Lydia opened her mouth clearly intending on making a retort, but as she considered his words she stopped herself. “Okay. You’ve got me there. Touché.” 

“Okay, so what _did_ you do in Paris?” Scott asked again. 

“Uhm,” Isaac wasn’t really sure how to explain. He wasn’t sure if they would find it lame and pretentiously edgy or if they would be concerned that it was trespassing and illegal. “Romy and I would check out old railway tunnels? The big one is called…” Isaac blanked for a moment on the English translation. Had he really grown so accustomed to French? “The little belt. It’s got tons of graffiti and stuff. And other parts were all overgrown with vines and flowers. I thought it was pretty cool. We also went roof-hopping sometimes.” 

“Roof-hopping?” Lydia asked, although from the concern in her tone she definitely understood. 

“You know, jumping from building to building,” Isaac shrugged. “They’re all really close together and it’s not like we were scaling skyscrapers. Or sometimes I would hang out with her when she wanted to get high. Which was less fun for me, but you know.” 

“So, going into the catacombs is too much for you, but you’ll jump off of roofs and go into abandoned tunnels and shit?” Stiles asked. 

“That’s what you took away from that?” Isaac scoffed. “And trust me, if the tunnels were closed off or too small no way in hell I’d go into them, but they opened up a lot and were pretty big. I mean, I got used to riding the metro which was pretty stressful at first. You know me, not really a fan of being trapped in a metal box.” 

“Get high..?” Scott looked far too amused. 

“Yeah, between hunter training sessions and a pretentious Parisian private school, Romy smoked weed sometimes,” Isaac felt oddly defensive of his friends. “Jeanie was more on the straight and narrow. Like she still went out to clubs with us, but she’d rather study than trespass.” 

“Can’t say I blame her,” Lydia said. 

“Well, what did you guys do for fun, then?” Isaac asked. “I told you what I did when, you know, not training to be a hunter, so now you’ve got to tell me what you guys did when you weren’t protecting the herd of Beacon Hills,” he was growing more snarky. He needed something to tease _them_ about. 

All three of them didn’t seem to know what to say. 

“We had a few parties senior year,” Lydia offered. 

“Stiles and I would hang out in the preserve sometimes. Sometimes with Liam, if he needed us,” Scott said. “And full moons were kind of busy with him and Malia early on.” 

“You went on a few dates with Kira,” Stiles pointed out. 

“And Malia. So did you, Stiles,” Lydia added. 

“Yeah! And then there was the bonfire. For lacrosse,” Scott offered. 

Stiles inhaled through his teeth, “bad example there, bud.” 

“Did you guys… really not do that much?” Isaac was surprised. 

“A… surprising number of events tended to get interrupted,” Scott said. 

“Right,” Isaac blinked. “I mean, my life wasn’t exactly exciting. I spent more time training in the Argent house than I did exploring Paris. And all of our hunts were out of town. We were lucky enough not to have a nemeton blowing things up every other week.” 

“Well, maybe not every other _week._ More like once a month,” Stiles said. Isaac wasn’t totally sure if he was kidding or not. 

Isaac didn’t really feel like teasing them about it anymore. It sounded like their high school experience had been punctured by more violence after Isaac had left. Despite all the trouble Isaac had managed to seek out while there, he had had plenty of peaceful times with his friends, months and months where the most stressful thing in his life was school and maybe Bhatt pushing him in therapy. His old friends seemed less certain of that. 

It was late. Late enough that Isaac was tired, jet lag or not. They had ended up back at the McCall house, staying up late until Melissa came home. Isaac had taught them how to play durak, the game Sasha had taught him so many months ago. When Melissa returned the card games, long since abandoned for conversation anyway, finally paused. Scott going to help his mom clean up the kitchen and Lydia following as Melissa asked her about MIT. He could hear the three of them talking in the other room, but he couldn’t be bothered to focus on the words. He was fine just leaning back against the couch, eyes closed. 

“So what really happened?” 

Isaac sighed, looking up, “what, Stiles?” 

“In Russia,” Stiles nodded to the cards, as if the Russian card game explained Stiles’ choice in topic. “You wouldn’t have talked about it like that at the restaurant if it wasn’t bad,” Stiles said. Isaac stared at him, Stiles sitting across from him with a seriousness that surprised him. Stiles just looked at him expectantly, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands fidgeting together. His leg was bouncing, making his entire body shake slightly. 

“Okay,” Isaac sighed again. “So, if you really think it was that bad,” Isaac knew he sounded patronizing. It was intentional. “Why do you think I would choose to talk about this with _you?_” 

“I don’t know,” Stiles smirked, “maybe because you don’t mind telling me off when I push you.” 

“Shove off, Stiles,” Isaac scoffed. “Your timing is shit.” 

“Mhm exactly like that,” Stiles teased. “Come on, if you really didn’t want to talk about it you’d probably have told me to fuck off a little more subtly. There’s got to be something more exciting to it than that. You said you left a _cult_ in Russia?” 

Isaac sat up, his chest tight with anger and maybe something a little closer to panic. What gave Stiles the fucking _right?_ Isaac hadn’t wanted to tell Scott about the last few weeks because that meant Scott looking at him with more pity. Scott had refused to hate him for what Isaac _had_ been willing to tell him, and Isaac didn’t want any more reasons to think Scott was trying to spare his feelings. Stiles was another issue entirely. “You want to know what happened? _Really?_ Fine- Why the hell not- I only started to leave that _cult_ because my friend showed up there getting tortured. No- Not Sasha- a human you haven’t even met because _he’s_ stuck in Paris recovering from broken ribs,” Isaac hissed the words with far too much venom and none of it was meant for Stiles, not really. “And I didn’t even have the _chance_ to try and get back to Beacon Hills until then because no one fucking told me Scott needed me until it was too late. I had to _walk back into that camp_ instead of leaving with them because guess fucking what? I was leaving right in time for a serial rapist and murderer to show up and I _knew_ he would hurt Sasha.” Isaac paused for just a moment, as if daring Stiles to speak. Stiles just stared back at him, looking as if he had something uncomfortable caught in his throat. 

Isaac kept going, words pouring out alongside resentment as if he had just been waiting for the right spark. “I warned Sasha, but you want to know what the _cost_ of that was? They found me out. They tortured me for information for _three days_ before Sasha got me out of there. I- _We_ barely made it out of there alive. You want to know why Sasha followed me out here? Why he left Russia? Because he didn’t have any other choice. Is that _exciting_ enough for you, Stiles?” 

“Fucking hell…” Stiles let out a low whistle, just staring at the coffee table in front of them, for once at a loss for words. Eventually he spoke up, his tone far softer than the sarcasm that had come before. “Oh my god- what if you hadn’t escaped? That’s fucking horrifying.” 

Stiles was far too good and finding out exactly what to say to make Isaac uncomfortable. That very thought explained the anxiety that had followed him here. If Sasha hadn’t been there, if someone else had been the one to take him out of that chest. Far too many terrible outcomes that might have been. How Alyosha touched him and called him pretty and said he might keep him... Isaac wouldn’t have been gaslit until he ran or died, Alyosha wouldn’t need to play any games, he could do what he wanted with Isaac. Then there was the two options of either being tortured until he bled out or dying of thirst in the same way he had been terrified of as a kid, locked away in a box. His body thrown on top of so many others, the very bodies he had put there himself, no one finding out what happened to him until after the Argents took the camp, until someone decided to search the woods and found a pile of rot… _Horror._ Isaac was once again reminded of how much he owes Sasha. 

“Isaac? Hello?” Stiles waved in front of his face. 

“Christ, Stiles, you need attention, don’t you?” Isaac covered the tremor in his voice with snark. “Must’ve been hard being wiped from existence or whatever.” 

“Eh,” Stiles shrugged, “the wild hunt thing wasn’t anywhere near as bad as... everything you just said. It was just a creepy train station. But…” Stiles trailed off, biting his lip, that cavalier mask coming off, “there was a moment where I found my dad, before I was actually taken, and he had no idea who I was. That hurt. I was so scared, and I told myself I knew Scott and Lydia would find me but there was a point where… I really thought that was it. I never admitted it, but I had doubts. They found me anyways,” Stiles half-smiled, something so tired behind his eyes. Was everyone Isaac had ever known always going to be this messed up? 

Stiles continued as Isaac remained quiet. “Scott probably isn’t going to want to tell you this, but the past few years haven’t been easy on him either.” Stiles seemed unsure of how to explain. “And I’m not going to tell you any details, that’s his stuff to share, but… I don’t know. I bet if you asked him he’d talk to you about it.” A pause, Stiles taking the time to put thought into his words. “It’s not like he’s really talked about that kind of thing with _me_ either. Like, I was _there_ for a lot of it, so it always seemed like there was no need to, I guess. But it’s all new with you, so. Maybe that would be easier for him. I don’t know.” Stiles was rarely so hesitant. “I probably should have reached out more,” he said it softly, as if unsure of admitting that kind of doubt to himself. “None of us _talk_ enough, you know? I mean we talk, obviously, but we don’t _talk._ As if that makes sense…” Stiles muttered. 

“No, I know what you mean,” Isaac hadn’t imagined that on his second night back - had it really only been two days so far? - he would be having a heart to heart with _Stiles._ He was still going to respond to him in turn. “How’re you supposed to start a conversation like that after knowing him so long?” 

Stiles stared at him. Isaac could feel the shift in tone as Stiles grew more reserved. It seemed Isaac had struck a nerve. Rather than get hostile, Stiles covered things up with a lighter, more sarcastic, tone, “what, you went off to Paris and got all wise and philosophical?” 

Isaac shrugged, matching Stiles’ mood change away from the solemn. “It’s the therapy. Maybe that actually does something.” 

“So you’re still doing that?” Stiles asked. 

“Not for a while now, no,” Isaac paused. He felt tired. “After the past few months maybe I should give it another go.” 

Stiles laughed a little harshly, “maybe we all should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer one, so I hope that makes up for the wait! There's a whole lot of catching up in this one too.
> 
> (My notes when I was doing the planning for this included "Isaac finds out what theo has done and has an 'aha you're gonna catch these french hands' moment" and I couldn't fit that organically into this chapter (or. any chapter.) but I had to share. y'know. Theo, redemption arc or not, would have to book it if Isaac spotted him.)
> 
> Hope you guys are doing well. And thank you for all the nice comments on the last few chapters! They make my day and definitely get me writing :)


	27. Chapter 27

Isaac got a text from Romy just as he was planning on heading back to the hotel, Stiles and Lydia having left not long before.

_\- You’re staying there tonight right_

_wasn’t planning on it. -_

_\- Well you should I’m going to lock you out_

_jesus Romy are you serious? -_

_\- :)_

_I could just get Sasha or Jeanie to let me in -_

_\- Nah they agree with me_

_what if he doesn’t want me to stay -_

_\- We both know he will_

“Hey. You… you heading out?” Scott asked, leaning on the doorway. 

“I don’t know,” Isaac shrugged. 

“It’s late,” Scott said. 

“I probably should-” 

“Too late to be driving.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you want to?” Scott asked. “You don’t have to-” 

“Yeah. I want to.” Isaac was unsure of what to say. “Not like it makes much difference anyway,” Isaac felt like he was moving backwards. His instincts told him to get defensive and cold, to seem unattached. Isaac had thought he’d moved past that. It was strange how both he and Scott seemed so much older, both worn down and grown-up. And maybe Isaac was just projecting, but Isaac thought maybe they both were hurting in ways different to the immaturity of grief that he remembered from years ago. 

“I guess not,” Scott smiled crookedly, but it looked like an echo of the version of Scott he had spent the daylight hours with. Isaac wasn’t naive enough to think that one conversation on the cliffside would fix everything between them, but he still hated the tension that came with the quiet. “So, I think I’m gonna turn in. I’m not used to staying up this late. I’m guessing this is nothing for you.” 

“Well, I mean it feels like it’s noon, but it feels like noon after pulling an all-nighter, kind of,” Isaac shrugged. 

“You remember where everything is, Well, ‘night then,” with an unsure sort of nod Scott headed upstairs. 

“‘Night…” Isaac sighed into the empty living room. He still felt uneasy and unwilling to rest. It had been a good day, right? He had spent time with old friends and some of that awkwardness faded. Still… those final words with Stiles followed him. It seemed that Stiles was under the impression that Isaac needed to talk to Scott. What, was he just supposed to go upstairs and ask him what he was bottling up? Scott seemed so calm and certain, but of course he was tired, they all were. Still Isaac had no intention of reaching out to Scott to find out what that was, even if he wanted to, Isaac surely had no right to cross that boundary. 

Isaac didn’t want to go upstairs and lay awake in his old bedroom. It was like the moment he was alone progress was replaced by the same guilt he had tried to push away. It was too quiet. Like all those hours he had spent in the bunker or the dark wilderness of Russia, there was too much time to overthink. Isaac hesitated, feeling that he didn’t have the right to wander through this house anymore. 

He eventually sat at the island counter, tracing the grain gloomily. He had the urge to bake, but he had a feeling there were few things that could be more inappropriate to do at three in the morning in someone else’s house. 

“I’m having deja vu.” 

Isaac jumped, turning to see Melissa, hair a mess and rubbing her eyes, standing sleepily in the doorway. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a late night chat, right, Isaac?” Melissa walked into the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water. 

“Y-Yeah,” Isaac tried to calm his racing heart. He was in the McCall house. He was safe. He couldn’t be further from the Volos pack and all of their dangers. “Sorry if I woke you, Ms. McCall.” 

“_More_ deja vu,” Melissa teased him. “Every time you’d ask me if you woke me up, even though half the time you’d walk around the house so quietly during the day you’d scare me half to death. Not sure how you managed to sneak up on me when you’re so damn tall. And don’t you apologize again,” she added quickly seeing him grow sheepish once more. A pause, Isaac now unsure of what to say, Melissa smiling at him far too fondly. “What’re you doing up, sweetheart?” 

“Russian time,” Isaac shrugged weakly. 

“Mhm,” Melissa clearly didn’t believe him. She got onto one of the barstools beside him, resting her head on her hand, looking at him far too knowingly. “I’ve missed our chats, Isaac. So how about you tell me what you’re thinking about?” 

“Uhm,” Isaac exhaled uncertainly. “I don’t know what to say,” he said quietly. 

“I feel a little out of the loop here,” Melissa pushed gently. “Chris gave me little updates here and there,” she shrugged noncommittally. “But how _are_ you?” 

“Chris told you stuff?” Isaac remained hesitant. 

“Not much. He wanted to _give you space_,” she used air quotes. “But apparently you’re training to be a hunter?” 

“_Was_ training,” Isaac untucked the chord with his silver claw from his shirt. “Graduated,” Isaac felt oddly bashful. 

“Look at you,” she bumped shoulders with him. “Making the family proud.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Isaac stared at the counter, fiddling with the claw. “It’s been… It’s been a weird few months.” Isaac hadn’t planned on telling Melissa McCall about the skeletons in his closet tonight, but she seemed to encourage otherwise. 

“Are you going to tell me about it now or do I need to _give you space_ too?” She was trying to keep things light, but it was clear that she didn’t want to brush this off either. “What’s going on with you?” 

Isaac was so angry. It had been ill contained in Russia, but now he was forced to grapple with the fact that he was safe and he hated himself for surviving. Scott he could justify keeping a distance from, Isaac had planned for that, and for keeping his walls up just enough that talking to Scott wouldn’t break him down entirely. But Melissa was the first adult he had relearned how to talk to; actually _talk_ to, not whatever weak excuse for communication he had had with Derek, and now she was _asking_ him to let go of some of that anger. Isaac didn’t know how. 

“Hey,” Melissa rubbed his back, her tone so gentle as she realized Isaac was truly struggling. “You’re okay.” 

Isaac laughed under his breath, so harsh and resentful towards himself, “yeah. I am. And it’s not fair, is it?” 

“Okay,” Melissa stayed so calm. “Do you want to tell me what you’re talking about?” 

_No._ “Have you ever-” Isaac sighed, hating the tremor in his voice as once again Melissa’s compassion tore through whatever shields he had managed to build to keep people out. Isaac had thought he would never need to keep people out again, but life had a way of proving him wrong. Isaac thought over his words, Melissa giving him time to pause, before continuing, “I have worked really hard the past few years to do better, to _be_ better. And I learned how to be okay with myself, I _did._ And- And I lost all of that- worse, I _chose_ to get rid of all of that because I couldn’t afford to keep it. I- I did bad things for the right reasons and it made me lose my goddamn mind. I was just trying to stop a war.” Isaac laughed harshly because it was easier than tears. “And of course a side effect of that was I remembered what it was like to hate myself. Years of therapy and so much time spent just _trying_ and I burned all of that progress because I wanted to help my family, because I wanted to do the right thing. What was the point of all that time spent struggling to learn how to be okay with myself if I just lost it anyways? And- And not to mention that I put my entire life on pause for this. I’m not going to university, I don’t have an actual job, I have no clue what I want to do with my life because I needed to fight the good fight or whatever bullshit excuse I gave myself. I did this to _myself._ I think that might be the worst part of it. There’s no one else to blame for this. These choices- _I_ made them.” 

Isaac, his rambling done, looked back to Melissa. He didn’t expect her to understand any of this, how could she? She had none of the context and Isaac didn’t want to burden her with it. So what the hell could she say to all of that? To Isaac admitting that he felt like he had wasted the past four years away from them? 

Melissa kept her hand on his back. She didn’t look surprised, only concerned, but it was a familiar sort of concern. 

“You know, I think you and Scott have a lot more to talk about than you think,” she smiled, but that worry didn’t leave her eyes. “You kids… you all have too much on your shoulders, do you know that?” 

Isaac nodded, he returned to staring at the counter, unable to deal with the way Melissa was looking at him. 

Melissa continued. “But you and Scott… you’d never quit. Not when people still need you,” it didn’t sound like praise or criticism, just a statement of fact, a resignation she had accepted long ago. “I’m proud of him for that. I’m proud of you.” 

“How can you- You don’t even know what I-” 

“I don’t need to,” Melissa said with a tone that left no room for argument. “I know you. And if you tried to make the right choices, I believe you. And from what you said…” Melissa paused. “Isaac, look at me.” Melissa put a hand under his chin, turning him back towards her. “Personal sacrifices aren’t always external. Sometimes you find yourself sacrificing your own progress and self worth to do the right thing. Just because you feel like you are responsible for that slide back from where you were doesn’t mean that it wasn’t necessary. It doesn’t mean that it wasn’t brave. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can’t get back to where you were.” 

“Thanks, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said softly. 

Melissa got to her feet and kissed Isaac’s temple. “I told you, you can call me Melissa,” but she said it with the fondness of habit, not expecting him to change. “Good night, Isaac.” 

“G’night, Melissa,” Isaac said it half under his breath as she headed back upstairs. Melissa paused, glancing back at him with a smile, but she didn’t comment on it. 

Isaac eventually found his way up to bed, far calmer than he had felt an hour before. He had missed the McCall house in more ways than one. 

Isaac woke up on a saturday morning to the smell of coffee brewing downstairs. He woke up to the warmth of cotton sheets and the sound of light California rain hitting the window. It was 11 am, and Isaac _felt_ like it was 11 am. He was in Beacon Hills. He was in the McCall house. And maybe that was finally becoming a reality to him. 

“You’re up early,” Melissa was on the couch, coffee in hand, the TV on to something mindless. 

“Am I?” Isaac mumbled, pushing his hair back out of habit, going to get coffee for himself. 

“Well, not really. Earlier than Scott, anyways. There’s not much for breakfast, I’m afraid. Cereal, maybe,” Melissa grew apologetic. 

“Hey, no worries,” Isaac didn’t go to join her in the living room, instead he leaned against the counter, drinking his coffee black. He set aside his mug and began to sift through the cabinets on his own. “I could…” Isaac called over his shoulder, hesitating. 

“What, Isaac?” Melissa leaned around the corner, joining him. 

“I could make crepes,” Isaac shrugged. “If you wouldn’t mind. I… I haven’t cooked just for the hell of it in a while.” 

“Um, are you kidding?” Melissa grinned. “_Yes._ Obviously yes. Can you? I don’t know if we have much here to make anything- but if you can- You’re too sweet, you know that?” 

Isaac felt his cheeks grow red, a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “It’s no problem, Ms. McCall.” 

Scott stumbled downstairs a half hour later, squinting at the brightness of the kitchen and looking slightly confused by Isaac standing there with a pan. 

“You’re… cooking?” Scott asked, shuffling over to the coffee pot. 

“Yep. And you’re awake,” Isaac replied. 

“Kind of…” Scott sat on the same barstool his mom had chosen the night before, resting his head on his hand in the same way as well. Isaac felt serene. 

“Chris should be home soon,” Melissa called from her spot on the couch. “No idea if Derek is planning on stopping by or not.” 

“Doubt it,” Scott scoffed. “What’re you making?” 

“Uh. Crepes.” 

Scott grinned, “crepes? Isn’t that like, a total stereotype?” 

“Hey, I’m not actually French,” Isaac shrugged. “I considered pancakes, but I couldn’t find any baking powder.” 

“Dude. You could make oatmeal for us and my mom would lose it,” Scott said. “I’ve got to step up my game if you’re sticking around.” 

“You could start by helping me?” Isaac offered. 

“Uh. Okay, with what?” Scott came up beside him and Isaac tried not to think about their shoulders touching. 

“Find something to put _on_ the crepes. I found powdered sugar, but that’s it,” Isaac focused on that. 

“You got it, boss,” Scott teased. 

“Are you boys planning on going out today? It better not be outside, unless you’re planning on going for a swim,” Melissa asked. 

Scott looked to Isaac for input, “I mean, Lydia said we could go over to her place. Her mom is out of town. She wants us to _all_ hang out. Like, the pack.” 

“Oh, I don’t know if I…” Isaac thought of being trapped in Lydia’s house with the McCall pack with something close to panic. 

“I mean _all_ of us. Your friends included,” Scott said quickly. 

“Oh?” Isaac thought it over. “Yeah, actually. That sounds… good. Actually good.” 

Scott gave him a crooked smile that made Isaac want to disappear into the floor. “Good.” 

Isaac and the McCalls were settled in at the dining table when the werewolves present heard the garage door open. 

“Chris is home,” Scott told his mom. 

“That was fast,” Melissa got up, going to the door. 

Isaac got to his feet without really knowing why. He hadn’t put much thought into the consequences of seeing Chris again. He _was_ excited, but also a little on edge. As Melissa had said, Chris had been sure to _give him space_, but Isaac didn’t really know where that left them. Chris let himself in, drenched by the rain which had clearly picked up. His hair was shorter and his beard longer, but other than that he looked much the same. 

All of Isaac’s initial considerations were thrown out the window when Chris came into the house and Melissa greeted him with a kiss. It was like his brain was misfiring. Isaac connected the dots both too slowly and far too fast for comfort. Chris’s guns in the McCall house. Melissa had been angry with Chris for not calling her. Chris had a key. ‘Chris is _home._’ 

_What the fuck._

“Isaac,” Chris dropped his bag by the door, looking past Melissa to him with some surprise. They stared at each other for a moment. Before Isaac could say anything, Chris crossed the room and held onto him in a tight hug. Isaac paused his line of thinking to reciprocate. It was grounding, despite the ache growing in his chest and the fact that his shirt was getting very wet from Chris’s jacket. Isaac had missed Chris more than he’d realized. It seemed neither of them really wanted to let go, but someone pulled back. Isaac wasn’t sure who. 

“You… you look good,” Chris assessed him carefully. 

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t think I believe them,” Isaac said halfheartedly. “You’re… here.” 

“So are you.” 

“And…” Isaac looked past him to Melissa. “You…” 

“Melissa and I- well, yes-“ 

“Since _when?_” 

“You didn’t _know?_” Scott stared between the two of them, looking offended on his behalf. 

“Yes, by the time Melissa and I were together, Isaac was already gone,” Chris seemed annoyed by this turn of events. 

“I’m just… surprised, that’s all,” Isaac wasn’t even seeing them properly anymore. He was just replaying the moment of Melissa _kissing_ Chris. 

“Can’t imagine why,” Melissa said sarcastically, gently pushing Chris and looking amused. 

“So, Isaac. You’ve got plenty to update _me_ on,” Chris was quick to change the subject. 

“I do?” Isaac was still caught up in replaying that kiss in the back of his mind. It still wasn’t clicking. 

“Well, Isaac made us breakfast, so, Chris you should get dried off and join us,” Melissa nodded back to the dining table. 

“_You_ made breakfast?” Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know when you’ve been gone three years,” Isaac said. He tried to keep his tone light and joking, but there was something cold behind it. Chris didn’t comment on it. 

“Valerie told me you’d graduated, congratulations,” Chris sat in the empty seat across from him. 

“Did she?” Isaac asked. He was torn between feeling proud and resentful. Chris had waited years to congratulate him. 

“Did you make your silver bullet?” Chris asked. 

Isaac wordlessly took the silver claw out from his shirt. Chris smiled at this, “good choice. Much more appropriate. Valerie also told me that you’ve been invaluable to the family,” Chris continued with more gentle praise. 

“I didn’t realize you and Valerie spoke so much,” Isaac said. He wasn’t trying to come across hostile, but upon realizing how much he had missed Chris, he suddenly remembered how much it hurt when he left. Isaac understood Scott’s feelings a little better now, Isaac hadn’t resented Chris at first because he had assumed he was coming back, there was no grand realization, only more time for that resentment to simmer. And now this bitterness was sneaking up on him fast. 

“We don’t,” Chris said shortly, clearly sensing the change. 

“Chris,” Scott spoke a little too loudly. “How did things go with the Calaveras?” 

“Araya is stubborn,” Chris embraced the topic change. “She said she doesn’t want to be involved, especially if it means fighting _against_ other hunters,” he sighed. “Derek got Braedon on our side, of course, but it’s not like she has much credit with the Calaveras. She was just a mercenary for hire to them.” 

“Can we not talk business at the dining table?” Melissa complained. “Breakfast first, werewolf stuff later.” 

“Right, sorry mom,” Scott said it like this had been an issue before. 

“Okay, then at least tell me, when did you and Derek get to be such good friends?” Isaac asked. It was a safer subject. 

Chris scoffed, almost choking on his coffee. “_Good friends?_ I think you might be misinformed-” 

“I don’t know, Chris, you and Derek have gotten along pretty well lately,” Scott said cheekily. 

“Compared to before Isaac left? You mean when we were trying to kill each other, or far enough along that we tolerated each other for the sake of you kids?” Chris said sarcastically. “Then, yes, I’d say we’re much better off.” 

“What about Peter? I doubt you two are on great terms,” Isaac asked. “Unless Peter has somehow done something to make killing Kate not such a big deal.” 

Scott, Chris, and Melissa all shared a knowing look. 

“To be quite honest, Peter killing Kate doesn’t feel like such an issue now,” Chris said. 

“...And why’s that?” 

\- 

“A fucking were_jaguar?!_” Isaac exclaimed as he and Scott ran for his car in the rain. It was now mid-afternoon and they had plans to see the rest of the pack alongside Isaac’s company. The rest of that conversation with Chris and Melissa had been a bit of a blur for Isaac, as apparently his two least favorite Argents had somehow come back from the dead or presumed-dead. Of course _Kate_ got another chance to fuck up Derek but Allison stayed dead. The other bits and pieces of the two McCalls and Chris explaining to him the whole nightmare with Gerard and Kate in more detail felt less relevant now when he could instead be absolutely baffled by the idea of werecats. The conversation paused as they got into Isaac’s rental, both already wet. “Sasha- He said they had a werelynx stay at the camp for a little while, but I didn’t really believe him.” 

“Well, I’ve never met a werelynx before, but Kate was a real nightmare,” Scott said. “Nothing like us. Well, kind of, but… I don’t know, it was _alien_, man.” 

“Okay- Something more important to talk about. Isn’t it weird? Seeing your mom kiss my…” Isaac hesitated over his words. “...my Chris?” 

“Not until you said it like that?!” Scott stared at him with muted horror. “I have _barely_ gotten over him being _Allison’s_ dad.” 

Isaac laughed, “I’m glad I’m not the only one a little weirded out.” 

“He’s better for her than my dad,” Scott shrugged. “Although… my dad _is_ better.” 

“He stayed in touch?” Isaac asked. 

“Yeah. Doesn’t make up for him disappearing for half my childhood, but… he’s trying to help,” Scott said. “I know he was kind of a dick to you before.” 

“Out of all the bullshit I’ve had to put up with, he’s kind of low on my priority list,” Isaac waved him off. “But I’m glad you guys made up.” 

“Speaking of… you and Chris are kind of..?” 

“What?” Isaac felt himself grow more than a little defensive, glancing at Scott before looking back to the road. 

“Well, you were kinda cold to him, earlier,” Scott said. 

“He was responsible for me and he cut me off almost completely for the past three years and _I’m_ coming across as cold?” Isaac couldn’t help but be harsh. 

“You’ve got to see the irony here a little bit,” Scott pushed. 

“Meaning?” 

“Well, you didn’t reach out to me either,” Scott said. 

“Yeah. And I expected you to be angry,” Isaac pointed out, his eyes remained locked on the wet asphalt in front of them, the colors of the stoplights refracting in the rain. “It made _sense_ for you to be angry with me and I’m still not sure if you are or not. _You_ have the right to be pissed at me and… and I have the right to be a little mad at Chris. He was the closest thing to family I had left and he just dipped the moment I actually felt stable.” 

“You could’ve come back with him,” Scott leaned forward to look at him better, clearly gauging for more information. 

“Yeah, I could have,” Isaac sounded blatantly bitter now despite trying his best against it. “I could’ve given up on having a stable home and friends to instead wander across the country with just Chris hunting monsters. I- I didn’t think far enough ahead to coming home to you, just that it would mean going back to being a mess. Okay?” Isaac dared a glance at Scott, and found rather than defensive, Scott looked far too understanding. 

“I’m sorry, Isaac,” Scott said. 

Isaac _hated_ that. They were halfway to the hotel, but Isaac pulled over into a side street, trying not to think about the last time he had been in a rain soaked alley in Beacon Hills. “What’re you talking about?” 

“What?” 

“_Me_ ‘what’- _you_ what- you’re _sorry?_” Isaac still sounded so vindictive and he had no idea why. 

“Because,” Scott sat up, growing defensive in a way that made it seem like he was defending Isaac from himself. “You being okay matters more than my feelings, Isaac. I shouldn’t judge you for that.” 

“Okay, fine. I’ll stand by that time- I needed to stay in France then, but what about later? Do you have any idea how much time I wasted _not_ calling you because I felt bad?” Isaac snapped. 

Scott just stared at him and for a moment Isaac wildly thought Scott was going to kiss him, he swore for a moment Scott leaned closer- Scott just turned away. 

“You had a life there-” 

“I had one here too,” Isaac cut him off. 

Quiet except for the rain beating on the metal roof and the windshield wipers going back and forth over and over. Isaac eventually pulled back onto the road. He didn’t know how to wash the tension out of the car. 

Scott didn’t speak until they were parked outside of the hotel. Isaac went to call his friends to tell them they were here, but Scott reached out to stop him. 

“I saw your tattoo, you know.” 

“What?” Isaac stared at him. 

“Your tattoo,” Scott nodded to his arm, Isaac’s sleeves covering it. A pause. Scott was still holding onto Isaac’s arm. “The arrows. They’re for her.” 

Isaac said nothing, just stared at Scott with an ache in his chest. It felt like his heartbeat was loud enough to cover the rain. 

“And the triskele… I’m guessing it’s not just for Derek,” Scott smiled at that, “but for your first pack. How you got here.” Isaac managed a nod. “And…” Scott trailed off, no longer looking at the tattoo, instead looking Isaac in the eye in a way that left them both feeling terribly vulnerable. Scott didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. They both knew exactly what those two circles around the triskele and the arrows were for. 

_Kiss him._

Isaac leaned back like he’d been shocked. The thought had been far too tempting. 

“We should…” Isaac mumbled fumbling for his phone. “We should go-” 

“Isaac,” Scott made him pause once again, Isaac immediately stopped, but not as if he were obeying an alpha, but rather trusting the calm certainty of a friend. “I don’t think you abandoned m-” A pause, Scott hesitating for a moment. “...abandoned _us_ as much as you think.” Isaac was starting to think that smile would be the death of him. Another pause, Scott breaking their gaze first. “You should call your friends,” he finished. The tension eased out of the car, but it did nothing to settle the cacophony in the back of Isaac’s head. 

_Kiss him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a little disjointed to me, like a bunch of scenes that aren't really cohesive, but I hope it was enjoyable to read anyway!


	28. Chapter 28

Whatever tension was in the car faded underneath Romy’s general chatter, her crowded in the back seat, with Sasha between her and Jeanie. Isaac wasn’t really paying attention, despite his best efforts as Romy asked him about the pack. Scott filled in the gaps for him.

The rain was still coming down when Isaac parked outside Lydia’s, Romy let out a low whistle at the sight of her house. “You did not tell me she was rich, American.” 

“_We’re_ rich, Romy,” Jeanie rolled her eyes. 

“I am still allowed to be impressed,” Romy replied. “By more than that…” 

“Shut up and get out of the car,” Isaac sighed. The five of them all but ran to Lydia’s porch, rare California rain still coming down in sheets. Scott let himself in. 

“Lydia? We’re here,” Scott called out. 

“All of you need to take off your shoes and dry off,” Lydia appeared with a bundle of towels, wearing a dress and heels in her own house. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Isaac said sarcastically. 

“Oui m'dame,” Romy mumbled far more seriously. 

“Where’s Stiles?” Scott asked. “And Malia and Liam?” 

“Stiles is in the bathroom,” Lydia said. “I think Malia is picking up Liam. And Mason is coming too.” 

“I thought he was out of town with family?” Scott said. 

“No, he got back last night, freaking out to Liam about, well, everything that’s happened the past few days,” Stiles returned, in his socks and his hair wet. 

“Mason is… Liam’s friend?” Isaac asked. A nod from Stiles. “And what is he?” 

“Human,” Stiles squinted. “99% of the time. I mean, he was possessed, but it didn’t stick so I don’t think that counts.” 

“...right.” 

“So Isaac wasn’t bullshitting me,” Romy spoke up. “Because of the nemeton? _That_ much crazy shit has happened here?” 

“Yeah, we’re pretty much used to it now,” Stiles did his best to seem nonchalant. 

Lydia and Scott exchanged amused glances. 

“Oh? Somehow I don’t believe that,” Romy mocked. 

Stiles looked accusingly to Isaac, “why is _she_ mean to me? What have you been telling them?” 

“Nothing that isn’t true,” Isaac said, his hands raised in a way that came off more sarcastic than non-confrontational. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Stiles remained suspicious. 

“Okay,” Lydia said, interrupting before they could continue arguing. “I am going to get us takeout. Can you guys write down your orders?” 

That quickly replaced the bickering with chatter, Isaac doing his best to translate the menu for Sasha. Not long after, the front door opened again, Malia entering followed by Liam and another high schooler Isaac assumed was Mason. 

“Malia- use a towel!” Lydia sighed as Malia shook her wet hair out like a dog. 

“What?” Malia said defensively. 

Mason looked very wide-eyed at the sight of them. “I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me there were more Argents,” he said, poring over the four of them with far too much interest. “Which one’s Isaac?” He whispered in what Isaac assumed he thought was subtly. 

“The tall one,” Liam muttered gloomily. It seemed he hadn’t warmed up to Isaac since yelling at him back at Oak Creek. 

“You didn’t tell me he was _hot_,” Mason whispered. 

“Dude, shut up,” Liam hissed back. 

Isaac, feeling more than a little amused, glanced to Sasha and Scott, the only werewolves who would have heard them as well. 

“You brought the hunters too,” Malia said somewhat reproachfully, staring at Jeanie and Romy. 

“Mals, do you think of Chris as a hunter?” Stiles sighed. 

“...sometimes.” 

“But-” Stiles stared incredulously to Lydia and Scott. 

“Malia, they’re not _really_ hunters,” Lydia said. 

“Yes we are,” Romy spoke up. 

Everyone present stared at her. 

“I mean-” Romy stumbled under the attention. “We’re not like- like Gerard’s people or anything.” 

“Right,” Lydia said dryly. 

“What do you mean you’re not like ‘Gerard’s people’? Are there different factions of Argents? Are there more of you outside of France?” Mason was quick to sit beside Romy, already bundle of questions. 

“Uh,” Romy stared at him. “Jeanie..? Do you want to take this one?” 

“Romarin, you can answer a few questions,” Jeanie scolded. 

“Okay, _mum_,” Romy rolled her eyes. 

On the other side of the room Malia had settled in beside Sasha. “Where are you from? Are you from Paris too?” She frowned, “wait. No. That doesn’t make sense, you smell like the _woods_\- Can you fully shift? I spent like, eight years as a coyote, and I only just figured out how to turn back-” 

“I- no. I am not coyote,” Sasha looked somewhat frantically to Isaac for help. 

“_She’s asking if you can turn into an actual wolf,_” Isaac translated for him. 

“_A wolf?_” Sasha shook his head. “No- No I cannot turn into wolf. Why-” 

“Because you _smell_ like you should be able to,” Malia said like it was obvious. “Well, so does Isaac, but I already know he can’t fully shift, so I thought _you_ might be able to. Do you at least hunt? _I_ haven’t been able to go hunting in _forever_. Well, a few months ago I was a coyote for a few days and caught a rabbit but-” 

“Wait. You _what?_” Stiles interrupted. 

“What makes you think I can’t fully shift?” Isaac somehow felt offended. 

“Wait, can you?” Scott asked. 

“Well, no, but-” 

“Okay, hold up, are we really moving past the fact that Malia _ate a rabbit?_” Stiles continued. 

Malia stared at him like he was the one being absurd. “Yeah, and?” 

“Well- You-” Stiles looked to the others for support. “Am I the only one who thinks that’s, you know-” 

“I think it’s kind of awesome,” Mason said. 

Stiles sighed, “of course you do.” 

“...we did hunt,” Sasha spoke up slowly, as he was growing unsure of the conversation. “Mostly deer. On some times we did hunt wild pig, er... boar.” 

Scott once again looked to Isaac, “you _did?_” 

“What- No- Well, the pack did, but _I_ never did personally,” Isaac rambled. “I mean, I helped prepared the meat to cook it-” 

“Gross,” Lydia wrinkled her nose. 

“How is that gross?” Malia said. “He even said they _prepared_ it, it’s not like they eat it raw.” 

“_You_ did that, though,” Stiles continued exasperatedly. 

“I thought you guys were from France..?” Mason still looked fascinated, but also far more confused. “I thought you guys came here from _Paris._” 

“I am from Russia. I am not _French._” Sasha sounded vaguely offended by the thought. 

“We- I mean, _they_ are from Paris,” Isaac nodded to the Argents. “Apparently, Malia seems to think Sasha and I smell like the woods.” 

“You _do_,” Malia remained adamant. 

“Cool,” Mason murmured. 

“Well _I_ don’t smell it,” Liam added. 

“Neither do I,” Romy said cheekily. 

“You’re all ridiculous sometimes,” Lydia rolled her eyes, just as Jeanie said “you’re ridiculous,” to Romy. They stared at each other. 

_Not again._ “Hey Jeanie, did I tell you Lydia is going to MIT?” Isaac spoke up quickly, hoping to change to a less aggravating subject. 

“Oh, really? I considered it, for my year abroad, but I got tied down back at home for another year,” Jeanie was immediately intrigued. 

“Oh really? I would think you’d want to go to a University in France,” Lydia responded in turn. “I’m guessing werewolf drama kept you there?” 

“Of course,” Jeanie rolled her eyes. “I was trying to keep the family going while having the most stressful penpal ever,” she stared pointedly at Isaac. 

“Hey, none of that was my fault,” Isaac said. “Well. Okay, _mostly_ none of it was my fault.” 

“Still, you just about gave me a heart attack every time I checked my email,” Jeanie said. 

“Is that how you contacted the Argents?” Sasha turned to him. “You mean to tell me you were smuggling information out of the Volos’ camp just by _emailing_ your family?” 

“No one was going to check it. I don’t see why it would have to be complicated,” Isaac said. 

“S-” Mason stared between the two of them, “smuggling information out of the Volos- What’s the Volos? What were _you_ doing there?” 

Isaac was growing more and more tired of explaining this, especially to some kid he didn’t know. 

“Werewolf stuff,” Isaac said flatly. “Jeanie- You were talking about colleges or something?” 

“Sorry, didn’t realize it was a sensitive topic,” Mason mumbled a little sheepishly. 

“No, you’re good,” Isaac felt a little bad for snapping at the kid. “I just- I’m just a little sick of talking about it, that’s all.” Mason seemed to warm at this. 

“Wow, Isaac. That was almost too sweet for you,” Stiles teased. 

Isaac ignored him, “you two were talking about colleges?” He said to the girls more forcefully. 

“Yes, well, Université de Paris was on my list, but MIT was my dream school for sure,” Lydia continued. 

“I would rather get away from home, but for America I was more interested in Harvard than MIT. I prefer politics to the natural sciences,” Jeanie said. It seemed Isaac was right, Lydia and Jeanie had hit it off immediately. 

“I’m way more into natural science, but Harvard was one of my backups,” Lydia nodded along. 

“Isaac told me you were a genius, but he failed to mention you were drop-dead gorgeous,” Romy chimed in, putting her arm on the back of the couch, not so subtly moving to put her arm around Lydia. 

Lydia laughed, seemingly endeared, while Stiles looked affronted and Jeanie embarrassed by her cousin’s antics. 

“Okay, I think you two are sitting close enough,” Stiles muttered, getting up and moving to the spot on the sofa between Romy and Lydia. 

“Romy,” Isaac leaned forward. “You _do_ realize Lydia is dating Stiles, right?” 

“What?” Romy looked forlorn. “_Are you sure it isn’t out of pity?_” She added in French. 

Before Isaac could reply Lydia spoke up in perfect French of her own, “_No, not out of pity, I’m afraid._” 

“Forgot about that…” Romy flushed pink as she was reminded of the fact that Lydia understood everything she said. “Well, if you ever get tired of boys, feel free to give me a call,” she said with a wink, looking straight past Stiles. 

“Wow, _really?_” Stiles grumbled. 

“Don’t worry, Stiles, you are growing on me,” Romy kept her arm on the back of the couch, getting tauntingly close to putting her arm around him instead. 

“...thanks?” Stiles stared to Scott and Isaac, baffled. 

The doorbell rang and Lydia got up and headed to the door, returning with Chinese food. 

“I haven’t had Chinese in _forever_,” Isaac sighed wistfully. 

“I also have not had Chinese in forever,” Sasha said. “That was joke. See? I have never tried it.” 

“You guys are closer to China than we are,” Stiles pointed out. “Or at least you’ve got less water between you.” 

“I, ah. I did not get out much,” Sasha shrugged. 

“Right,” Stiles said. Isaac could read on his face he, almost like Mason, wanted to ask more. Isaac couldn’t blame him, Isaac had asked plenty of questions about Russian werewolf culture earlier on. 

“So what’s the plan for tonight, Lydia?” Scott asked as conversation died down over their food. 

“I don’t really have one. It wasn’t supposed to rain this much, I was thinking we’d be able to get in the pool but that’s not happening,” Lydia shrugged. 

“We should play never-have-I-ever or something,” Liam spoke up. 

“Oh yeah, I’m down,” Mason agreed immediately. 

“Oh my god- I forget what _high schoolers_ you are,” Stiles sighed. 

“Hey, you’re not much older,” Liam pouted. 

“Yeah, I don’t know about that one-” Lydia began. 

“I’ve never played it before,” Malia cut in. “Not like I’ve had many chances to. Or _any_ chances.” 

“I have neither. I saw it in the American movies, I did not know it was real game,” Sasha spoke up, as always looking more than a little nervous at the attention. 

“Oh, now this is just pathetic,” Stiles muttered, “I guess we _have_ to play now.” 

“Are… the rest of you good with this?” Scott looked to the others, Lydia shrugging a little hopelessly, Jeanie impartial, and Romy looking far too enthusiastic. “We can’t even _drink_, like, what’s the point?” 

“Why the hell not,” Isaac sighed. “It’ll get us all talking.” 

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Liam leaned forward. “Never have I ever been to Europe,” he stared smugly at Isaac and his friends. 

Lydia also put a finger down, “you know I don’t think your questions are supposed to target people.” 

“Aw, but that’s no fun,” Stiles said. “I’ve got one-” 

“_And_ aren’t we supposed to go in order?” Lydia added. 

“Come on, Lyds, it doesn’t matter- never have I ever eaten something raw,” Stiles stared pointedly at Malia, with a secondary glance in Sasha’s direction. Following Malia was Lydia, Scott, Isaac, Jeanie, and Romy. “What-” 

“French people love shellfish,” Isaac shrugged. 

“_Scott?_ You remember like right after you first turned we had a conversation about you eating a rabbit _raw…_,” Stiles cringed. “Don’t tell me I was right.” 

Scott laughed, “dude. _Sushi._ Come on.” 

“I’ve got one-” Mason spoke up. “Never have I ever broken the law.” 

“And gotten caught, or-?” 

Lydia hit Stiles’ arm lightly, “just because your dad has stopped you from getting a record doesn’t mean you weren’t caught.” 

“Wait- but- _all_ of you?” Mason stared around the room. Everyone else had broken the law, apparently. 

“You really haven’t broken the law?” Liam was skeptical. “Come on, with all the shit we get into you’ve at least trespassed.” 

Mason thought about it for a minute. “Damn. I guess you’re right. But _all_ of you? Even you guys?” Mason nodded to the group of newcomers. 

“Being a hunter comes with… bending the rules,” Jeanie said diplomatically. 

“Don’t rope me into your morals- I have broken the law for myself far more than I have for a hunt,” Romy said firmly. 

“...like what?” Mason was still clearly intrigued. 

“Do you want a list?” Romy grew sarcastic. 

“What’s the craziest?” Stiles asked. 

“Uhm,” Romy hummed for a moment, thinking. “I, uh, I tased a cop?” 

“You what?” Isaac asked. 

“Not this one again,” Jeanie stared at the ceiling, as if praying for someone to stop her. 

“And trashed his car.” 

“You _what?_” Isaac was baffled. “And how long after I left did you decide to go completely off the walls?” 

“Don’t get so cocky, American. This was before your time,” Romy teased. 

This did not calm Isaac at all, “and you never thought to mention this before?” 

“I am an enigma. I have done so many things you don’t know about,” Romy was smug. Jeanie laughed. 

“Cousin, would you like to explain how you got out of legal repercussions for this particular crime?” Jeanie scoffed. Romy pouted, so Jeanie spoke for her. “She tased him, and when the others showed up she started sobbing and said she didn’t know he was a cop.” 

“That worked?” Stiles squinted. 

“She was thirteen at the time, so yes,” Jeanie said. 

“Okay but why was she tasing a cop in the first place?!” Stiles asked. 

“He was a cop,” Romy shrugged. “I felt honor bound to do something about it.” 

“I-What- That explains _nothing_,” Stiles stammered. 

“What about destroying his car?” Lydia asked. 

“No, no I came back later to do that,” Romy shook her head. “And it wasn’t a squad car. It was his personal car so it was easier to get to.” 

The group stared at her. Stiles broke the silence, clearly looking for a topic change. 

“Scott- We kidnapped Jackson. Do you remember that?” 

“Uh, yeah I remember that Stiles. It was a nightmare,” Scott shook his head. 

“You kidnapped me too,” Liam piped up. “Well, you more than Stiles,” he said to Scott. 

Isaac, among others, stared at Scott. 

“I went into the woods to look for a dead body when I was sixteen,” Stiles was quick to distract from that, also seeming smug at his own exploits. 

“Is that actually a crime or just a really stupid thing to do?” Lydia pointed out. That seemed to take away some of his smugness. 

“Kind of..? I mean, isn’t it interfering with a police investigation?” Stiles tried. 

“Well I broke into the sheriff’s station and stole from the FBI,” Scott said. 

“Okay, that doesn’t count it was your _dad,_” Stiles said. “He barely scolded you. I thought my dad was gonna kill me.” 

“Oh as if you know what that’s like,” Isaac said sarcastically. The banter died and was replaced by uncomfortable silence. 

“I… forgot you said shit like that. Okay. Touché,” Stiles shrugged. 

“Uh,” Mason looked utterly confused. “W-What about you? What did you do?” 

“Like, the first thing? I was a fugitive of the state and wanted for murdering my father,” Isaac said mildly. 

“He didn’t,” Scott said quickly as Liam and Mason grew more wide eyed. 

“Way to spoil the fun,” Isaac teased. 

“Why do I not know about this?” Sasha asked. 

“I told you all the exciting stuff,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Wait- I’ve got another one,” Liam interrupted. 

“You just went,” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“I thought it didn’t matter,” Liam said mockingly. “Never have I ever kissed someone in this room.” 

Oh. 

Isaac stared around the room. The McCall pack, save Liam, were down. The Argents were not, obviously, but Isaac was irritated to find Sasha participating. _Yes_ it was true, but Isaac hadn’t planned on announcing that he had kissed Sasha. Just as Isaac was about to fess up, Mason spoke up. Only Scott seemed to have noticed Isaac’s behavior. 

“Dude. _We’ve_ kissed,” Mason said. 

“What? That doesn’t count! We were… bored. And thirteen,” Liam turned red. Mason gave him a look. “Fine, never mind. Someone say a different one.” Scott looked like he wanted to say something but seemingly thought better of it. 

“I don’t like this game,” Malia said. “Can we keep talking about crimes? I killed my family.” 

The mood could not have changed faster. Isaac’s friends looked more than a little horrified. 

“Accidentally,” Malia reassured them. 

Sasha was the one that broke the brutal silence. “I’m gay. I know it is not illegal on paper, but does that count?” 

The confused horror turned to him. 

“...in Russia. Not here,” Sasha said, shifting uncomfortably under the attention. 

“I hate this so much,” Stiles sighed. “This is your fault,” he stared accusingly at Liam. 

“Hey that’s not fair I was just trying to get us talking! _You_ guys are the ones with all the weird stories and shit,” Liam pouted. 

“At least we’re all getting to know each other,” Lydia sighed. 

“Maybe a little too well,” Stiles added. 

The conversation shifted from less gloomy tones and broke off into messy chatter. Stiles and Romy actually seemed to banter quite well, Jeanie and Lydia had plenty to talk about, especially as Mason was eager to contribute with questions. Sasha was overwhelmed by Malia, but they also had a surprising amount in common. Liam struggled to make smalltalk with Isaac and instead ended up listening to whatever Mason was chatting about. It was more than a little overwhelming to Isaac, but not wholly bad. Isaac didn’t mind the rest of the McCall pack. Malia was… different, but Isaac found himself a little more at ease with her because of it. Mason was endearing, and Liam still a little stiff but Isaac could understand some of that defensiveness he carried. Isaac still felt like it was a shame that Kira wasn’t there, despite knowing so little of her, but he had no intention of bringing up old wounds. Not when right now things were beginning to feel more natural with Scott. 

At some point Romy had agreed to arm wrestle Liam, which had been a surprisingly drawn out struggle considering the whole werewolf-powers part of her opponent. Romy still seemed to take the defeat bitterly. This somehow led to talks about fighting, Romy regaining some of her wounded pride. 

“You _punched_ those hunters. You just- You didn’t even use a gun. Like. That’s kind of insane,” Liam said. 

Romy shrugged, feigning modesty. “Eh. It is more fun when I do that to werewolves. _They_ do not see it coming.” 

Liam cringed at this, “yeah, I would not want to be on the other end of that.” 

“What about him?” Malia nodded to Sasha. “_This_ guy actually knows how to fight. The rest of you are too scared to dig in with your teeth.” 

“Gross…” Stiles muttered. 

“Sasha is an utter badass,” Romy said. “I have heard many things about him,” Romy looked at Isaac, waiting for him to share. 

“...Sasha do you want to take this one?” Isaac said. It felt strange to announce his business in front of him and a bunch of other strangers. 

“What am I taking?” Sasha seemed alarmed. 

“I mean-” Isaac switched over to Russian. “_Can I tell them about when you tore Boyra’s jaw off?_” 

“_...yes?_” 

“So. Sasha tore someone’s jaw off,” Isaac decided not to ease the group into the topic. 

“Almost,” Sasha clarified. “It was still a little attached.” 

“Scott gouged his own eyes out,” Liam added. 

“Wait, what?” Isaac turned to Scott. “You _what?_ How the fuck can you see right now?” 

“They… grew back?” Scott said sheepishly. Stiles gagged. 

“Why did you have to say it like that?” He shuddered. 

“What about this guy ripping off someone’s jaw?!” Mason interjected. “Whose jaw was it?” He seemed torn between being horrified and intrigued. 

“Why does _that_ matter?!” Liam asked. 

“I don’t know! I’m just trying to get some more information!” Mason grew defensive. 

“It was another werewolf at the camp..? He was trying to stop us from leaving,” Sasha glanced to Isaac for help. 

“It’s a long and gross story. You guys don’t want the details,” Isaac knew that it was not the gore he wanted to refrain from, at least not the gore from the fight. Isaac did not want his first impression to be of him stumbling through the woods, bleeding out, drugged, and skin full of nails. 

“Then trust _me_, you don’t want the details from my end either,” Scott shook his head. 

“Fine,” Isaac shrugged. “If we’re talking about who’s lethal in a fight- Stiles. Since when did you actually know how to defend yourself?” 

“Are you serious? I helped kick your werewolf ass from day one,” Stiles shot back. 

“Fine, but still, I’m impressed,” Isaac said. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” 

“You decide,” Isaac said dryly. 

“Why don’t you guys like each other?” Mason asked. “Do you guys have a history or something?” 

“Oh, they _do_ like each other,” Lydia offered helpfully. “This is them being friendly.” 

“Okay..?” Mason didn’t seem to fully believe her. 

“If you boys want gore I was almost lobotomized,” Lydia decided to add her own horrifying contribution. 

“Pardon?” Romy paled. 

“I got better,” Lydia said. 

“I got my toe shot off-” Stiles began. 

“Oh my god, no more gore stories,” Scott interrupted. “I can’t take it anymore. I think Mason is going to throw up.” 

Mason had been coping relatively well until Lydia started talking. 

“You all have weak stomachs,” Malia scoffed. 

The conversation eventually shifted, and the chatter splintered into different groups once more. Isaac and Scott more listening than speaking with one another, even though Isaac could feel Scott’s eyes on him. He could still feel them even as they drove the others back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Been a while. Sorry for the wait, I moved back on campus/started school again so the past month has been a little insane. I know this was more of a filler chapter, but I hope it was a nice read either way! Not to mention it was incredibly cheesy, but it got everyone talking and hopefully kept things moving. Thanks for reading as always :)


	29. Chapter 29

“So. Uh. I’ve got some questions,” was how Scott decided to begin a conversation as Isaac drove him back to his house, the others already left at the hotel.

“Do you?” Isaac said dryly. 

“Well, I mean, I definitely want to ask what you thought of all of them. I know they can be a lot sometimes,” Scott went in a different direction to what Isaac was initially expecting. 

“My friends can be a lot too, especially Romy,” Isaac shrugged. “But I can see why they’re in the pack. Maybe I wouldn’t have immediately pictured you befriending Malia or Liam and Mason otherwise, but now that they’re there, I get why they fit. Liam still seems to not like me, but Mason seems like a good kid.” 

“It’s not that Liam doesn’t like you,” Scott said quickly, “or maybe he doesn’t, but not because of anything _you’ve_ done. I think, well,” Scott smiled. “I think he might be a little jealous.” 

“_What?_” Isaac laughed. 

“We haven’t had another werewolf around here in a while,” Scott shrugged. “He’s always been _the_ beta, so. This is kinda an adjustment for him.” 

“That’s adorable,” Isaac teased. 

“Tell him that. You’ll change your mind.” 

“Okay. You said you had _questions._ As in more than one. So, what else have you got?” Isaac asked. 

Scott frowned, thinking. “This one might seem out of left field, but- I thought you said the Argents were like your _sisters._ But you _kissed_ one of them?” Scott was, justifiably, looking a little concerned. 

Isaac kind of wanted to laugh, but he also knew where this conversation would lead. “Uh. I didn’t kiss either of _them_,” Isaac said very deliberately. 

Scott just stared at him, looking even more puzzled, “oh my god- did you kiss Lydia at some point?!” 

Isaac was growing especially anxious now. Scott definitely wasn’t homophobic, everyone had liked Danny, and Isaac doubted he would be any form of biphobic either. “No… uh… they weren’t the only options there…” 

It was like Isaac could see the cogs turning in Scott’s head. Computing in 5. 4. 3. 2. 1: “Wait- the Russian dude?!” 

“Yeah..?” Isaac spared him another glance, anxiety still knawing at him. 

Scott clearly was trying to piece together something to say, “that’s great, man. Like. Good for you. That’s cool.” It was exactly the dorky and supportive response Isaac had expected from Scott. “So… are you bi, or what?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” 

“Cool. Cool,” Scott nodded, still fumbling in his attempts to be supportive. “You know, Jackson is bi.” 

“_What?_” Isaac stared at him. 

“Ise- Isaac, eyes on the road,” Scott panicked momentarily as Isaac seemed to forget he was driving. They were almost at the house anyway. 

“Fucking _Jackson_ is bi? The most desperately heterosexual man I have ever seen in my life- _He’s_ bi?!” Isaac said once they were safely stopped outside of Scott’s house. 

“....yeah?” 

Isaac shook his head. “I mean, I guess it makes sense, I always knew he was compensating for _something_ but internalized homophobia was not the way I thought that was gonna go.” 

“...did you take like a gender studies course in Paris or something?” Scott stared at him, grinning now. 

“What-?” Isaac shook his head. “No. Romy. And- And a gay therapist. That too.” 

“Isn’t gay therapy supposed to be really fucked up? Wait- Why did you go to gay therapy in the first place?” Scott’s tone changed dramatically. 

“Scott, no. The- My therapist was gay. He was a gay man, who was also my therapist. The Argents did not send me to conversion therapy,” Isaac was doing his best not to laugh as Scott truly seemed earnest. 

“I promise I’m not this stupid all the time. This just, this took me a little by surprise,” Scott shrugged. 

“I know,” Isaac knew he sounded ridiculously fond. That didn’t mean he could stop. “You think I’m not surprised? _Jackson_ is bi… I mean that almost explains why Danny put up with him for so long. Wait- how did _you_ find out? Is Jackson back from London?” 

“Not permanently, but a while back him and Ethan came to help-” 

“Jackson and _Ethan?_ ” Isaac cut him off. “Are we thinking of the same Ethan here?” 

“I would think so,” Scott raised an eyebrow. 

“The- The murder twin turned ‘good guy’,” Isaac air-quoted that last point, “he came here with Jackson? He- He _knows_ Jackson?” 

“They met in London, I guess,” Scott shrugged. “Started dating-” 

“They _what?_” Isaac was going to lose it. 

“Why are you so invested in this?” Scott seemed to be growing concerned for him. “I didn’t know this would be such a big deal to you.” 

“It’s _not._ Or I guess it shouldn’t be but-” Isaac shook his head. “The two people I hate the most but can’t justify killing started _dating_ each other.” 

“Do you want to maybe explain that a little more?” Scott was growing just as baffled as Isaac was. 

“I kind of thought it would be obvious.” 

“Uh. No?” 

“Who should I start with,” Isaac got even more sarcastic. “The guy who knew my dad was beating the shit out of me and never did anything about it, or the one who helped kidnap, torture, and _murder_ my first pack? Hell- who helped hold me captive and fuck with my head _and_ tried to kill me to boot. If you guys can let that slide, fine, but I’m not exactly happy about it.” 

“Oh,” Scott grew sheepish. 

“Those two dating feels like a fucked up joke meant to target me personally,” Isaac muttered ruefully. 

“Maybe we all got over Ethan, or what Ethan did, a little too fast, but…” Scott trailed off. “I hadn’t even considered Jackson as anything more than a… a high school bully at worst.” 

“Or a giant homicidal lizard,” Isaac pointed out helpfully. “But I guess that doesn’t count.” 

Scott chuckled, “I guess not.” A pause. “Still, I see your point. It’s the same thing with Theo, I guess. Not like anything I can do will change the past, so I’m just… getting over it.” 

“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’m above petty revenge yet,” Isaac said. 

“So are you… staying?” Scott nodded to the McCall house. 

“If you’ll still have me, yeah,” Isaac said. Things were lighter between them, easier. Not easy enough. “I mean, I just don’t want to overstay-” 

“You can’t overstay,” Scott said. “If _Chris_ gets to crash here for weeks at a time, you definitely do.” 

“Then I’ll stay,” Isaac was holding back a smile. He felt vulnerable enough without unrestrained puppy eyes. 

“Mom?” Scott shouted once they got inside. A sticky note was on the counter. 

_Out with Chris. Will be back late. xoxo_

Isaac rolled his eyes and Scott feigned a gag, making Isaac laugh. 

“It’s still so weird,” Scott shook his head. 

It was late. Isaac was getting ready for bed, if only to try and commit to this time zone, but Scott seemed to have other ideas. It was the strangest thing to be sent back to another time by the sight of Scott standing in his doorway. 

“I’m… not really tired,” Scott said, he was looking at the floor. It seemed that he too knew things still weren’t quite right between them. There was this barrier, but Isaac could pin down what exactly that barrier was. 

“...Okay?” 

“Do you want to…” Scott seemed surprisingly unsure. 

“Do you want to ask me more stuff?” Isaac didn’t know where this was supposed to go. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that works,” Scott said despite that seeming to be his intended goal from the start. He came in and sat on the edge of Isaac’s bed, Isaac joining him and leaning against the headboard, sure to keep some distance between them for reasons he had no intention of sharing. 

“Did you have something in mind, or?” Isaac stared at him. 

“Yeah,” Scott still hesitated. “So. Are you and Sasha..?” 

“Are we..?” Isaac was also slow on the uptake. “_Oh_\- No. No we’re not,” he explained quickly. This was lighter than he expected, in theory, but where it led to made him nervous. “It was a thing, but… no. We couldn’t. _I_ couldn’t.” 

“Oh,” Scott blinked. “Why?” 

Isaac lost himself for a moment, just staring at Scott. Those soft brown eyes so open and earnest. Isaac felt so much of himself trying to tear down the walls he had built. Like another being, one far more desperate and surely just as lonely, fighting to get just a little closer to Scott. Isaac buried it. Even as it tore him apart from the inside. _Fuck._

“I… I mean you don’t have to answer, I was just…” Scott seemed to grow more flustered. Isaac had taken too long to respond. 

“No, it’s just that-” Isaac tried to fumble together an answer. “It wouldn’t have worked out. It wouldn’t have been fair to Sasha.” 

“Okay, uh. Why?” Scott kept pushing, seemingly oblivious to the damage he might cause. 

“Because at the time I was fully planning on betraying him. I was working for the people he thought were responsible for murdering his entire family. Eventually I was going to leave him. And eventually I was going to hurt him. That would’ve fucked up both of us,” Isaac went with the safer answer. He put all the blame on circumstance. “And it’s not like I had time to date around in Paris. I was training to be a hunter. I didn’t have time to go to college or start a relationship or do _anything_ besides figure out how to speak passable Russian and train to survive all that.” All the while Isaac’s tone had been rising in antagonism. The truth was pounding in his head. _Tell him._ Instead, a deep bitterness that had nothing to do with Scott but which came out anyway. “So yeah, I didn’t decide to start my first relationship since Allison died by sleeping with the enemy.” 

Scott stayed quiet. Isaac allowed guilt to simmer up but did nothing to change things. He hadn’t intended to be harsh, but Isaac couldn’t stop himself for putting up walls between them. As if by telling a lie built on callousness he could keep himself safe. He was so angry with himself for deciding that this coldness was easier than telling Scott how he felt. That didn’t let him stop. 

“I feel like your whole life just revolves around hunting and being an Argent now,” Scott spoke carefully, growing just as guarded as Isaac. But he wasn’t angry. He didn’t snap back at Isaac or resent him as Isaac had hoped he would. Being here didn’t change the fact that Isaac was afraid of his feelings for Scott. Or his notion that it would be easier if Scott just hated him. Scott continued when he said nothing, “there isn’t anything wrong with those things, but… it worries me. That you didn’t have the chance to do anything else.” 

Rather than defensiveness, Isaac felt real bitterness rising. There was nothing he hated more than being pitied. “You know what, Scott? Going to college and pretending to have a life doesn’t change the fact that your entire identity revolves around being an alpha and _fighting the good fight_,” he said heatedly. “When I asked you guys what you’d done the past few years it was damn near impossible for you to think of anything that didn’t end bloody. That’s why I left this town in the first place. So don't give me that bullshit about me not having a _normal life_ when you and your friends can't have a fucking conversation that doesn't end with some referential horror. Every time I try and actually talk to you, you get all self righteous instead of being fucking honest.” Little of what Isaac said now he actually meant. But Isaac hated that Scott was right. He hated how Scott worried and worse how much he wanted to let go into that. 

“Is it? That’s why you ran off to a house that wanted you dead?” Scott’s tone remained level, an almost-cold calmness that did nothing to ease Isaac’s anger. “Okay. Fine. Maybe we’re both just-” Scott sighed, and whatever confidence he had held before withered, “-doing the best we can? I don’t know. I’m not going to pretend you aren’t right and I’m not going to pretend any of this is easy because _none_ of it is easy...” 

“How are you so- How are you-” Scott was too at ease. He was too passive and Isaac couldn't take it. He didn’t know where to put his resentment, because it certainly wasn’t meant for Scott. He was on his feet, pacing the room because that was easier than looking Scott head-on. “You've got this calm and you're refusing to actually talk to me instead you're just pretending nothing is wrong! You- You know things aren't right. You know things _shouldn't_ be right between us- So why aren’t you angry?!” Isaac hated the way his voice broke, how weak he sounded. The guilt that had almost escaped a few nights before on Lookout Point was insidious. It had been waiting for the excuse to let Isaac fall apart. “I hurt you- I’m fucking yelling at you- You’re- You were supposed to be mad at me- Why are you _not?_” 

Scott shrugged, “maybe I’m just too tired to be. If I’m going to be angry at someone, it isn’t going to be you. You’re my friend, Isaac. Even if you’re acting like I’m not.” Scott looked so sad. “I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not going to help you hurt yourself.” 

Isaac couldn’t cope with that kind of honesty, despite what he had claimed. “I _left_ you, Scott. And you’re just gonna let that go? ” Isaac still sounded like he was pleading. For what, he wasn’t sure. This conversation had drifted too close to the truth, to why Isaac had come back to Scott, to why he was there at all, and that terrified him. “It’s- It’s _pathetic._” Isaac wasn’t sure if that dig was meant for him or Scott. Guilt was rising like water pressing against a dam. He couldn’t control anything anymore. 

“So what?” Scott got up, hands balled into fists at his sides, crooked jaw tense. “You want me to be angry? Really?” Scott stepped forward. Isaac stepped back. “Because _what_\- that’s gonna fix things? That’s gonna _change_ something? Sure- I’m fucking furious that people keep trying to kill me and my friends. That so many of us have died and that I can’t sleep at night because I’m trying to make sure no one else does. No matter how much progress I make, no matter how much I fight or how much better I get it doesn’t do anything to stop people from getting hurt. And you- You really think I’ve got any anger left for you? For _you?_” 

Scott hesitated for just a moment. That pause alone made Isaac still, looking to him, torn between hoping for calm and hoping for rebuke. Scott stared at the wooden floors, a serious frown growing deeper. Scott lost whatever burst of passion he had managed for just a moment. When he next spoke, he looked so small. “You left me. If you want that to be the reason, Allison left me too.” 

That drained all the fight out of him. Whatever impulse Isaac still harbored which told him to snap at Scott, to give Scott a reason to resent him, was swept away without his bidding. It was replaced almost as quickly by a mantra, _you’ve changed you’ve changed you’ve changed._

Isaac had outgrown all this rage and it didn’t have the right to ruin whatever was here for him. He had been fighting a losing battle to get back to Scott for years, and now he was _here_. Isaac didn’t want to hate himself anymore. All he wanted was Scott. 

Isaac crumbled. “I’m so sorry- I- I didn’t mean it.” 

“I know.” Scott held onto him so tightly, both of them leaning on each other, tears coming far too easily after so many years. “I- I miss her. I still miss her so much.” 

“I know,” Isaac sighed, the weight in his chest lessened. “I miss her too.” 

“Can I-” Scott paused. “Can I stay here? Tonight?” 

Only now was Isaac struck by the fact that Scott had been reaching out to him. This whole time Scott had been trying. _Isaac_ had been the only one trying to push them apart. 

_Kiss him._

“Yeah,” Isaac spoke so softly. “Scott-” 

Scott pulled away, still just barely holding onto him. He hesitated. The way he stared at Isaac– it was like he was waiting for something. Isaac was utterly frozen. What was he meant to say? Scott had made him braver for so long, but now with just a look Isaac’s courage died. 

Isaac stepped back. _I love you._ “We’re okay, right?” Was what he said instead. 

“We’re-” Scott seemed confused, uncertain with where they had ended up. “Yeah. Of course we’re okay.” 

“Good.” Isaac scuffed his feet on the floor, staring at the ground. It was like there was a hole in his chest, growing wider by the second. _You’re so stupid, Lahey._

“Can I…” Scott sounded more nervous, but at least he had the strength to push through it. “Are you still okay with me sleeping in here?” 

“Yeah,” Isaac sounded oddly hoarse, even as they had both moved past tears, Isaac hated how weak he sounded. Only once Scott had gone to the other side of the bed did Isaac move. The bed both felt too big and too small, the foot of space between them a mile and dauntingly close. Isaac was hyper-aware of the mattress dipping behind him, of Scott’s heartbeat and his breathing. 

A whisper in the dark, “do you still get nightmares?” 

“Not so much anymore.” 

Scott rolled over. Isaac could feel it. It took far too much willpower for Isaac to do the same. They faced each other. And Isaac had nowhere to look but into Scott’s eyes. 

“Why do you think that is?” 

“Why’re you asking?” 

“I don’t know. Just…” Scott’s eyes wandered for just a second, taking Isaac in with enough intent that Isaac was left exposed. “...thinking. I guess.” Scott hesitated, taking a deep breath that Isaac could feel. Like they had shared the air in his lungs. Or that Scott had taken it from him. “When did they stop?” 

“I don’t really know. They got better when I was here,” Isaac was trying to look anywhere but at Scott’s lips, but his eyes weren't any easier. “And when I left for Paris I… I didn’t sleep enough. Or I slept too heavy for nightmares. For a long time.” 

“Yeah,” Scott was still staring at him, utterly unwavering. “I get that. Right after she-” Another pause. “I understand. It was hard to do anything after that.” 

“They came back a little, but I think I eventually got better,” Isaac admitted. All he could think about now was Dr. Bhatt reminding him that even when the nightmares were gone, Isaac had missed Scott crawling into bed beside him. “After the last few months, I have a feeling they might come back.” 

Scott nodded. “After…” he pointed to his eyes. “That whole thing happened, even after I healed and we were safe, I had these dreams where I woke up and I couldn’t see. Among other things.” 

“Other things?” 

Scott smiled, but it wasn’t an easy smile. “I’m mostly okay. I think.” 

Isaac hesitated, “Stiles seems to think otherwise.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow, surprised, “he does?” 

“He…” Isaac muttered it half under his breath. “He said I should talk to you about stuff.” 

“When were you talking to _Stiles?_” Scott seemed far too amused. 

“Scott,” Isaac remained serious. “He’s worried about you. Don’t- Don’t do that thing where you act like everything is fine because you’re expected to be fine.” 

“I’m not trying to.” 

“In that case, I’m fine too.” 

“Yeah?” Scott must have moved closer. Isaac didn’t think they had gone to bed this close together. “Maybe we’ll both be better than fine. Eventually.” 

“Maybe,” Isaac barely spoke, as if afraid his words would stir the air between them and Scott would move away. 

“G’night, Ise,” Scott said, but he made no move to stop staring at Isaac. 

“‘Night, Scott.” 

Sleep came for them eventually. Late enough that Melissa and Chris returned home, each going to check on their kid or almost-kid. Melissa with a moment of fear when she found Scott’s bed empty, wondering if he had run off into the night to save Beacon Hills once more. 

“Melissa,” Chris whispered from down the hall. Melissa immediately knew. 

“It’s about time,” Melissa smiled, her arm going around Chris’s waist, a peace returning to her at the sight of Scott asleep beside Isaac, their hands inches apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than usual but Whew it was a doozy to write! And it was a bit messier than I would have liked, but it served its purpose. And at times I was thinking "am I making these boys too stupid?" But then I remembered Scott "my mom does all the grocery shopping" McCall is wonderfully oblivious at times and Isaac is always dumb when it comes to emotional intimacy.
> 
> Also, in my notes for this chapter, I had "there was only one bed but better!! They CHOSE that bed motherfucker!!" so. There's a little peek into my writing process for you...
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking with me and commenting and such. This fic has gotten way more support than I expected, especially for such a long one. It keeps me writing!
> 
> ...this slowburn can't get any slower, right?


	30. Chapter 30

Isaac woke up first. When he did he kept still, not even daring to open his eyes, even though he knew there was the weight and the warmth of Scott beside him, he could hear his even breathing and his heartbeat, he could _feel_ that pack bond so close, but if he opened his eyes surely it would stop being real.

What the hell had even _happened_ last night? Isaac had gotten defensive. He had been cruel and Scott had had none of it. _I’m not going to help you hurt yourself._ That had been jarring in itself. Scott knew him too well– Isaac got so weak around him– but then Scott had broken down. And then they’d talked about _Allison_, only for a moment but enough that it hurt. Scott had asked to sleep beside him. He had _asked._ Isaac didn’t know what to make of any of it but he was still so scared of screwing it up. Scott had knocked some sense into him. Isaac needed to stop looking for confrontation, even if it wasn’t because Isaac believed he deserved peace, but maybe simply because Scott wanted him to be okay. He could do that. 

Scott shifted beside him, sitting up, his hair sticking to one side. He looked over at him with a sleepy smile. “Hey,” his voice was husky and soft when he first woke up. Isaac had forgotten that. 

“Hey.” 

“You wanna go have some coffee?” Scott stretched, messing with his hair. Isaac did his best to ignore the feeling that he was in too deep. 

“Yeah. You think your mom and Chris made it back alright?” Isaac followed him downstairs. 

“Yeah. They always do,” Scott said. 

“So, do you really not like your mom dating him?” Isaac had to ask. 

Scott seemed to hesitate, brewing the coffee instead of responding. “He makes her happy. And her being happy is more important than how I feel about it. You know I like him,” he added quickly. “It’s just… he was Allison’s dad first. And he’s your…” Scott smiled, “Chris.” 

“Oh shut up,” Isaac shoved him lightly. “I don’t know what to call him. Calling him dad is not only inaccurate, but a nightmare for me, just like him calling me his _son_ or whatever bullshit has got a bad history. He… he looked after me for a few months. I’m closer with the original Argents than I am with him. That’s it.” 

“Fair enough. I still think it’s cute,” Scott said before rummaging through the cabinets for cereal. 

Isaac was hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. Scott checked his phone while they waited on the coffee, a frown taking form. 

“What is it?” Isaac grew nervous. Something else going horribly wrong was very on brand for them, but he would much prefer to avoid it. 

“Nothing serious,” Scott said. “Do you think you could come on patrol with me later?” 

“_Patrol?_” 

“I know, it makes us sound like we’re really soldiers or whatever,” Scott shrugged. “We usually check out the edge of town and the preserve for trouble. And Sheriff Stilinski keeps tabs on anything internal that comes up weird. Hence,” Scott gestured to his phone. “Patrol. Stiles thinks it’s a bad sign, Monroe’s people moving in that close again. And I’ve got to agree… we usually have to seek out the hunters nowadays, not the other way around.” 

“That’s a change,” Isaac muttered. None of this surprised him, per say. He had come back to Beacon Hills with the expectation he would need to fight. It just felt so strange to see Scott talk about patrolling for hunters alongside attending UC Davis. “I can come with you. I mean, that’s why I’m here.” 

“Thanks,” Scott smiled far too genuinely. Isaac never knew how to respond to that kind of openness. There was no discussion of the night before, not that Isaac would know what to say. Scott scribbled down a note for Chris and Melissa, and then they were headed out. Once the hum of Scott’s bike was finally silenced, Isaac took a deep breath. 

“I forgot how loud things could get,” Isaac said as they began to navigate slowly into the brush. 

“Really? I never really thought of the Beacon Hills suburbs as _loud_,” Scott raised an eyebrow, walking just ahead of him with his hands in his pockets. 

Isaac laughed dryly, “yeah, you really have no idea what real quiet is.” 

“Do I?” Scott turned back to him with a teasing smirk, walking backwards through the underbrush. “Then what do you call this, then?” 

“I call this a busy road about six miles that way,” Isaac pointed behind them. 

Scott frowned, listening for a moment. “I have to focus to hear that. And you just… do?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I had to listen carefully before I was a werewolf. And the quiet lately… I guess I’m just more in tune with that stuff,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Doesn’t that get tiring? Being that aware all the time?” Scott asked. 

“What, hypervigilance?” Isaac said flatly. “I’m better, Scott. I just… need a little time to get over the past few months.” A pause, Isaac not wanting to push, but knowing he was right. “You’re paying attention too. I know you are.” 

Scott nodded, “Stiles too. He gets so jumpy sometimes, and I don’t really know how to help him.” 

“Sometimes I-” Isaac paused. “Well, I guess that’s too vague, I’ve only been here a few days, but since I’ve been back I guess I’ve been _reminded_ of it… I forget Stiles is human. Not _really,_ of course, but I forget how damaging it must be to run around with people like us all the time. Even Lydia– sure she doesn’t have supernatural healing, but like you told me, she still has _power._” Another moment of silence as they walked deeper into the brush. “He’s lucky to have you to watch his back.” 

Scott shrugged, “_I’m_ lucky to have him too. And we’re both more than lucky to have Lydia watching our backs.” 

Isaac exhaled a laugh, “yeah. You are.” 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Scott said it so easily, so casually, but the words still struck him hard. “Come on. We’re supposed to check abandoned buildings and look for traps.” 

“_Traps?_” 

“Haven’t seen them here for a while, but running through the woods got dangerous sometimes,” Scott winced. 

They continued on like that as it creeped towards noon. There was nothing. It all just looked like regular hiking trails. 

“Why would they even be out in the woods? Isn’t that more werewolf-ish behavior?” Isaac kicked the dry underbrush. They were more likely to find a forest fire than a hunter with it this hot out. “Shouldn’t we be looking-” 

Isaac was cut off by a bolt cutting through his shoulder and pinning him to a tree. His arm numb and pain spreading, Isaac could only think _not again._

“Shit,” Scott tore the bolt from his shoulder, Isaac grimacing as blood ran down his arm unhindered. Scott dragged him behind the nearest tree, trying to get a look at their assailants. 

“Guess I was wrong,” Isaac gasped. 

“How could we not smell them?” Scott muttered, “Isaac, put pressure on it-” He turned back to Isaac, to see him already tearing apart his shirt and wrapping the wound tightly. 

“I’ve gotten pretty good at this,” Isaac managed a smirk. His arm was burning, bandaged or not, there was poison in the wound. “What do we do, call for backup?” He asked. 

“No signal. And I don’t think there’s many, probably just a scout, like us, but I can’t get close to them if they keep firing on us,” Scott growled, peaking his head out from behind the tree only to duck back as another bolt shot past them. 

“Give yourself up!” A man’s voice shouted through the trees. 

“How do they know it’s you?” Isaac, felt sick with pain, but it was nothing in the grand scheme of suffering he’d dealt with thus far. 

“Maybe they don’t,” Scott shrugged. “Uh,” Scott turned around and shouted beyond the trees. “Leave us alone! We’re calling the cops, if you leave now we won’t press charges!” Scott looked back to Isaac with a halfhearted shrug. Isaac gave him a sarcastic thumbs up. 

“Can you see him?” Isaac, his wound now dealt with, reached his left arm behind his back, getting the gun he had holstered just under his shirt. 

“You brought a _gun?_” Scott gaped. 

“Of course I brought a gun– good thing I did too,” Isaac was sharp and irritable, especially as his good arm was still bleeding and burning. “Can you see him?” He asked again. 

Scott glanced around the corner again, another bolt got close enough it actually cut Scott’s cheek. He was breathing hard now, pressed against the tree, eyes wide. “I know his general direction.” 

“Do you think it’s just one?” Isaac readied his gun, frowning as his left hand shook. Still, better than trying to shoot with his right, as he was still numb. 

“Only one shooting at us right now,” Scott sighed. “Why couldn’t I– Can you smell him?” 

Isaac paused and took a deep breath. More worry came to him. “Mostly I just smell the blood and the wolfsbane right now, but no. I can’t smell him. There are ways to cover a scent. Hunters– actual hunters, you know, animal hunters– they do it all the time, don’t they?” 

“I guess, but it’s freaking me out. We didn’t know he was coming at all,” Scott said. “Shit– I think he’s coming closer.” 

“Okay, when I say so, you’re gonna give me your shoulder so I can keep the gun steady. I can’t do it on my own right now, I’m too shaky,” Isaac said. 

“Isaac, you’re hurt, you shouldn’t–” 

“Are you going to shoot this gun?” Isaac hissed. He listened closely. It was only one set of footsteps treading slowly and carefully forward. “You’ve just got to keep still for me. Ready?” Scott nodded. “Move.” Scott leaned forward, ducking just out of the tree and Isaac followed, handgun steadied on Scott’s shoulder. 

A man in black had another bolt loaded and aimed right at Scott. A bullet was faster. Isaac got his trigger arm and the bolt hit the ground beside them just as the hunter collapsed. 

“He’s down,” Isaac did not calm, his gun still level with the man writhing on the forest floor, clutching his bleeding arm. “Scott? You good?” 

Scott blinked at him, wincing. “I can’t really hear you. Gun went off right by my ear.” 

Isaac managed a laugh, “sorry about that.” 

Scott took the lead, going up beside the man who squirmed to get away from them. “Keep your hands where we can see them and I can help you,” Scott’s tone, so light and joking all morning, was firmer now, imposing. 

“You… You were supposed to be werewolves… I didn’t–” the man struggled to breathe, staring at them warily but not with the loathing Isaac had imagined from hunters like these. “I wasn’t trying to shoot _people_–” 

Scott glanced to Isaac, amused. When he looked at the man again his eyes glowed red. “You know werewolves are people, right?” 

The man looked more disgusted than afraid. He was young. In his 20s, probably only a few years older than them. Too young to be fighting someone else’s war. Isaac would know. “Fucking traitor, are you? Hunters are supposed to _kill_ monsters, not join them.” 

It took Isaac a moment to realize the man was talking to him. He smirked, eyes flashing yellow. 

“Your kind are evolving, are they?” He spat bitterly. “Get it over with, then.” 

“What?” Isaac scoffed, his gun still trained on the hunter in case he moved. 

“We’re not going to kill you,” Scott seemed sincere. As if this reaction was one he had expected. Isaac was unsettled by this, more so because Scott was so unphased. What was Monroe telling these people? “Why are you out here alone?” 

“You won’t get anything out of me,” the hunter edged away from them, his eyes locked on Isaac’s gun, his hand pressing into his right arm to stem the flow of blood. He and Isaac had parallel wounds, an eye for an eye and all that. Isaac had no intention of adding any more unless he moved against Scott. 

“Isaac, you don’t need to do that,” Scott looked to him, so calm and certain it was hard not to listen. He lowered the gun. Scott turned back to the man. “You’re bleeding. My friend is too. If you give me your crossbow bolts I can make sure I know what kind of wolfsbane you used and help him. I can help you too. We can get you to a hospital.” 

Somehow the hunter didn’t look any less afraid. He looked utterly baffled. Apparently he hadn’t expected Scott to be so readable and compassionate. “I’m not telling you anything,” he said again. 

“Yeah, you already said that,” Scott remained patient. Isaac didn’t know how. “I’m gonna take one of your bolts now–” 

“I can smell it, Scott. Just wolfsbane,” Isaac told him. 

“You can?” Scott stared at him. 

“Yeah. Smells like our bullets back home,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Smells like bullets...” Scott said it half under his breath, still. “Okay then,” he shook his head, approaching the hunter. Isaac fought to keep his gun at his side, itching to aim it at him. 

“Scott,” Isaac spoke sharply. He was right to be cautious, the hunter swung at Scott with a knife. Scott stepped back, still far too calm. It seemed anticlimactic, the hunter’s aim falling short, him collapsing onto his side, his knife digging into the ground. He seemed surprised that a fight hadn’t broken out. 

“I’m not gonna leave you out here to bleed to death. And unless your people are coming for you, I think you might,” Scott stayed calm. “Your choice.” 

The hunter stared between them, still wide eyed, seemingly shocked that even as he had tried to stab Scott, Scott was still offering to help him. Isaac knew that look all too well. All the prisoners he had tended to had held the same suspicious and terrified expression, the same state of shock when Isaac had asked to help them. Isaac sighed. He holstered his gun. 

“You need to get to a hospital. Let me try and stop the bleeding,” Isaac grumbled. His own arm was still bleeding. 

“My mom is gonna be worried,” the hunter mumbled it half under his breath. “I told her I was going to the bowling alley… What’s she gonna say when I show up in the hospital with a gun shot?” 

Scott winced sympathetically, recalling a time when he had kept secrets from his mom. “We can take you to your people if they’ll patch you up instead, but you can’t hide something like this. You should tell her.” 

“Oh, what– your mom and dad are fine with their son being a monster?” He scoffed. 

Scott seemed amused, “no. But they are fine with me being a werewolf. Come on,” Scott took the man’s good arm and helped him to his feet. He didn’t resist. “Isaac?” 

“Yeah, got it,” Isaac tore off another part of his shirt, which was soaked in blood anyway, and tied it tightly around their cargo’s shoulder. 

“Can you guys take me to the hospital?” He didn’t seem afraid anymore, more so embarrassed. “I wasn’t supposed to be spotted. I messed up. Monroe can’t find out.” 

“She sent you out here, did she?” Scott sighed. “Alone?” 

“I’m strong,” he mumbled. “I could’ve done it. Werewolves aren’t supposed to have guns…” 

“Oh, I cheated, did I?” Isaac said dryly. “Scott– how’re we supposed to get him back on a _bike?_” 

“Ah. Good call,” Scott paused, staring at his bike as if somehow it would become big enough for three people. Isaac was far too amused seeing Scott properly stumped. 

“You get him to the hospital,” Isaac rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine here.” 

“Isaac, you’re still bleeding. I’m not leaving you out here for Monroe’s people to find,” Scott grew stern. 

“I can take care of myself,” Isaac was a little too aloof. He patted his pockets, “yes! I thought I left it here,” Isaac dug out Cam’s lighter. 

“Don’t just–” Scott winced as Isaac burned the wolfsbane. Isaac bit down on the collar of his tattered shirt to steel himself, still far too accustomed to the feeling of the poison burning inside of him. Isaac must’ve imagined it, but for a second he thought Scott was staring at his midriff. “And you’ve done it,” Scott sighed. 

“See?” Isaac gestured to his bloody but unmarred arm, “ta da. All healed. Nothing to worry about. And…” Isaac glanced to the hunter who was leaning against Scott heavily now. “I think your passenger is just about dead weight. And trust me, trying to keep conscious on the back of a motorcycle is not easy. You should get going.” 

“And what, you’ll just walk home?” Scott frowned. 

“Yes,” Isaac sighed loudly. “I will be _fine_, Scott.” 

Scott got onto the bike, Isaac helping the hunter on behind him. “Hold on tight, man. Falling off is gonna hurt like a bitch,” Isaac smirked. 

He only felt uneasy once the sound of Scott’s bike faded out of the preserve. They hadn’t really gotten a definite answer on whether or not the hunter was unaccompanied. Isaac started walking. Part of him wanted to just take off running until he made it back to town, but that was a noisy endeavour. He made it to the main road, glancing at the rare passing cars as if expecting one to hit him and drag his body into a trunk. A car was slowing beside him now. He noticed the moment it did and committed to fighting first, running later. 

Isaac turned sharply, a hand on the gun behind him. 

“Whoa, Isaac– It’s just me,” Lydia rolled down her window, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “You look like hell.” 

Isaac relaxed, growing sheepish, “it’s not so bad. Sorry. Kind of jumpy.” 

“Get in.” 

“What’re you doing out here?” 

“Um. Scott sent me to make sure you weren’t murdered by hunters?” Lydia said, just a bit patronizing. 

“Right. Could’ve guessed that,” Isaac muttered. “I was expecting Stiles’ jeep.” 

“Stiles is currently get updated by Chris and Derek.” 

“Right,” Isaac nodded. Of course he was. A pause, Isaac thinking, Lydia making no move to force smalltalk onto him. “Does Scott do that often? Rescue the people who’re trying to kill him?” 

“What do you mean?” Lydia glanced at him, frowning. 

“Scott just dragged some hunter who was doing his best to knife him to the hospital like that was _normal_ for him. So, is it?” Isaac asked. 

Lydia pursed her lips, eyes on the road as she seemed to debate something in her head. “Yeah,” she eventually nodded. “Yeah I’d say it’s kind of normal for him. But it’s _Scott,_ did you expect anything less?” 

“No,” Isaac stared at his tattoo, dried blood smeared over it. “I guess I didn’t.” 

“You’re worried about him,” Lydia didn’t say it like an accusation, but for some reason it felt like one. 

“Yeah, I’m worried about all of us. There are hunters trying to kill us. And I’m a little tired of being in a warzone,” Isaac deflected. A moment of quiet, Lydia not pushing, Isaac not sure of what else was left to say. “He pushes himself too hard,” Isaac eventually spoke. 

Lydia nodded, “yeah. He does. But he helps people.” 

“That doesn’t mean he should throw himself into danger like that,” Isaac was just so tired and frustrated. Had he ever really made a difference in Russia? Was he going to make a difference here? 

“Which is why _we’re_ here,” Lydia said it like Isaac was missing the obvious. Another pause. “Stiles worries the most. Or at least he’s the most transparent about it.” A pause, Isaac waiting as she seemed to consider her next thought. “Sometimes I can’t read him. He talks so much and gets upset when Scott rushes into danger but… I don’t think he wants us to know how scared he is. And I _hate_ that I can’t _see_ him. You know?” 

Isaac thought back on how Scott had almost died a few nights ago, how that hadn’t been acknowledged in the slightest, how Scott sometimes seemed to have a wall up that Isaac never knew what to do with. “Yeah. I know.” 

Lydia sighed, “well, I’m glad you’re back. I love Scott to death, but it’s a little hard to complain about Stiles to him,” she grew lighter in tone. “The alternative is Malia, but her solutions aren’t ideal for emotional problems.” 

Isaac stared at her with raised eyebrows. “...And mine are?” 

Lydia laughed, “okay. I did not explain that well, how about…” She considered it for a moment, “you’re more likely to roll your eyes at Stiles with me instead of say, recommending I bite him to make him calm down.” 

“Ah,” Isaac nodded, but to say he understood any of that would be lying. “Stiles annoys you that much?” 

“No, not like that,” Lydia said quickly. “If I want to talk about how sweet he is I can just go to Scott. He’s good with the sappy stuff. And Scott would totally listen if I needed to complain about him, but it’s different when its his best friend. Basically, I need someone to bitch to about how emotionally incompetent this pack is sometimes, and maybe it's the therapy, but you’ve seemed pretty functional so far.” 

“Why do I think you’re lying?” Isaac teased. 

“Probably because I know you’re also going through it right now, whatever this mess is,” Lydia admitted. “But I am _hoping_ you might talk to me when you can’t talk to Scott.” There was weight to her words there. 

Isaac suddenly felt rather vulnerable, “what do you mean? Like– Like what?” 

“I don’t know, Isaac,” Lydia kept her tone mellow and her answers cagey. “Anything. Like right now we’re talking about how dumb our boyfriends are. Well... boyfriend and good friend.” 

The silence that fell after that was brutal. Lydia could feel the way the air shifted even if she didn't acknowledge it. Even as she had tried to keep things light, there was such a clear question in the way she had said that. Isaac felt sick. Lydia had eased into the topic with incredible delicacy, in fact, Isaac could just push past her apparent slip of the tongue. Isaac was actually _scared_, and he really wasn’t sure why. “You can’t tell him,” was his first instinct, his fear finally coming out of the tension. “Please– I don’t know where he’s at with that stuff and I don’t want to mess things up any more than I already have.” 

Lydia almost looked surprised, as if she had expected more denial from him. That or Isaac had just loudly and panickedly outed himself. They had finally returned to the suburbs of Beacon Hills, but she pulled over, parking the car smartly with far too much conviction. Isaac thought a ridiculous number of emotional conversations kept happening on the side of the road and he definitely wasn’t getting out of this one. Isaac was glad Lydia couldn't hear how hard his heart was beating now. 

“You’re not going to screw anything up,” Lydia was so calm and certain Isaac wasn’t sure if he should be defensive or not. “Not over this, anyway.” 

“Over _what?_” Isaac’s frustration bled through over fear. “What the hell do you think this is?” 

Lydia gave him a scathing look, but it was far sweeter than her typical reaction to someone snapping at her like that. “I’m not trying to make you talk about things you apparently are nowhere near ready to talk about, but I want you to know it’s okay. I don’t know how Scott feels– I know he’s glad you’re back and he was a little upset and unsure at first– but other than that… all I know is he really cares about you. And you care about him.” 

Isaac’s hands twisted around each other anxiously in his lap. “Am I that transparent?” 

“Mmm,” Lydia thought on it for a moment. “No. I think I’m just very perceptive.” 

“Cute,” Isaac said dryly. “But really… I don’t want to mess up what I have now and I don’t know what he knows or what Stiles knows because if _you_ know everyone else is fair game or maybe I just constantly look like an idiotic puppy–” 

“Isaac. Slow down,” Lydia cut him off. “You won’t mess up,” she said it more deliberately now, forcing him to take her word for it. “Say he doesn’t feel the same way– and from the way that things are going, I don’t know if that’s likely– then that’s that. It’ll hurt like hell, I’m sure, but Scott is going to love you no matter what. Him and his mom, you’re family to them. And you’re pack to us.” 

Isaac felt an ache in his chest, his words felt caught in his throat. Lydia Martin was _not_ going to reduce him to tears by telling him his crush _might_ like him back. No way in hell. _His crush._ That didn’t seem right to him. ‘Crush’ felt so childish, so small compared to how Isaac had wrapped himself around Scott these past few years. Besides, Lydia had done a whole lot more than tell him Scott might like him back. Isaac’s friends from Europe knew that he was in love with Scott, but they didn’t _know_ Scott so it was harder for them to put him at ease. To have Lydia know and to have her stabilize him removed a weight from Isaac’s shoulders he didn’t even know he had been carrying; and there was something especially calming about _you’re pack to us,_ even though the thought of talking about this with Scott, let alone being _rejected_, made him want to go back to Russia. 

“Thanks,” Isaac coughed loudly, clearing his throat. “I, uh. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do about all this yet. I dunno if I’m gonna tell him.” 

“Wait– were you planning on just burying this for the rest of your life?” Lydia grew incredulous. 

Isaac did not have a good answer for that. He inhaled through his teeth. “...kind of?” 

“I’m not trying to rush you here, but Scott won’t wait forever,” Lydia turned to look at him head on, hands off the steering wheel to gesture with her words. A quirk she had picked up from Stiles, it seemed. “Sometimes Scott is great at being up front and assertive and perceptive, other times he is so oblivious I’m surprised he’s not blind–” 

“What does that change–?” 

“Let me _finish_, Isaac Lahey,” she glared at him. Isaac shut up. “I think you should tell him how you feel. I can’t make you, and you know I’d never say anything to him unless you wanted me to, but what’s the alternative? You’ve got to get over your feelings or talk about them. What would your therapist say? And just because pining after me for years worked out for Stiles does not mean it’ll work out for you. Besides, even Stiles had to fess up eventually.” 

Isaac didn’t have a good retort to any of that. “I… I don’t think I’m ready,” Isaac wasn’t sure why his voice had gotten so soft or why Lydia confronting him had scared him so badly. Maybe because the more this all crossed over into his life in Beacon Hills the harder it got to avoid. He hated being _weak._

“I don’t mean like _tomorrow_. I just mean _eventually,_” her tone grew lighter, more teasing as she noted how worried he was. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I was _trying_ to keep it vague but it just… slipped out, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” Isaac shrugged, still fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Am I really that obvious, though?” Isaac looked to her for confirmation. If he had to worry about Stiles or Liam or Malia or _whoever_ cornering him about this he’d be on the first flight back to Russia. Easier to face mad werewolves than this whole mess. 

“I told you, I’m just _perceptive,_” she rolled her eyes at him, smirking. “No, but really, I think you’re in the clear. I was mostly going on a hunch.” 

“A hunch? You thought through why I came back here, figured out I was bi, and decided I was in love with Scott?” Isaac said dryly. 

Lydia shrugged, “I guessed it for Jackson early on. Really, I just think you love him. It being romantic was the bigger guess. You coming here at all…” she looked so oddly fond. It was strange to think she still cared about him from their few months of friendship. “I thought there might be something more to it.” 

Isaac nodded, a far less uncomfortable silence taking up the space between them as Lydia got back on the road. “I didn’t just come back for him, you know,” Isaac hoped she knew that he was grateful for her. 

She smiled, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys! Real life has picked up and other creative ideas have kept on distracting me, but we're still making progress. I'm planning on about ten more chapters. I'd like to finish with another clean 40 like books 1 and 2, but we'll see if my writing allows that!
> 
> Again, thanks for your patience, and thank you to everyone who has been reading/commenting/being supportive lately!


	31. Chapter 31

Lydia dropped him off at the McCall house, reminding him to tell Scott he hadn’t been murdered by hunters. It wasn’t until she had pulled away that he realized he didn’t have a _key._ He couldn’t even remember if he had taken his copy to Paris with him years ago. Isaac had been hyper aware of the fact that he no longer lived here since his return, but that realization still hurt. He didn’t have a key. This wasn’t his home anymore.

Isaac was stirred from his brooding by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

\- _Ok good I’m almost done at the hospital be home soon :)_

Scott, of course, snapped him out of it. Isaac already knew things would never be the same, it was about time he got over it. 

Not even five minutes passed when Scott texted him again. 

\- _Might be a little longer_

_You good? What happened?_ \- 

\- _I’m fine mom is here too. I just need to make sure this guy gets in touch with his mom._

_Of course you do. I’m going to go back to the hotel then_ \- 

\- _Ok see you later?_

_Yeah_ \- 

Isaac had no idea if his friends would even be at the hotel, not that he had any clue where else they might go. He couldn’t think of many sights to see in Beacon Hills, but he was hoping they weren’t sitting around bored out of their minds. Isaac wasn’t sure if he was meant to be relieved when he found the hotel room empty. The room was messy, a do-not-disturb sign a permanent fixture as bits of incriminating hunter-evidence were strewn about the room. Jeanie kept notes from Chris scattered over the right side of her bed, including a map of the West coast marked up with what Isaac assumed were Monroe’s movements. Romy never made her bed, and she kept her knuckles on her bedside table like they were glasses or jewelry instead of a weapon illegal in the state of California. Sasha’s bed was made as well, exactly as he did it back in Russia, with the pillows stacked right on top of each other and the sheets folded down. 

Isaac missed them. He felt bad that he had been spending so much time away from them, he had spent six months without Romy and Jeanie and dragged Sasha off to a new country without much discussion. Somehow returning to find they had gone out and kept living without him was both a comfort and a weight. He already was recovering from Russia, not by much but he was, and he was talking to Scott _and_ he wasn’t so scared anymore. But he also didn’t have a house key. He was still lost in translation, unsure of how to fit the pieces of his life together. What he _could_ do right now was take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and get the blood off of him. 

“American! What are you doing here?” Romy jumped at the sight of him, followed by Sasha and Jeanie. 

Isaac, drying his hair with a towel, shrugged. “I’ve kind of spaced out on you guys. Came over to check in, and no one was home. What have you guys been up to?” 

“Well, we took the Russian to an American mall, got him some clothes of his own,” Romy slung her arm around Sasha’s shoulder. 

“American malls… you people have– what is word?” Sasha turned to Jeanie. 

“Advertisements?” 

“Yes. American malls have advertisements everywhere. It’s all very bright,” Sasha tossed his bags onto his own bed. 

“Yeah. It’s pretty obnoxious, I guess,” Isaac shrugged. “But you guys have been doing okay without me?” 

“We can survive just fine without you, American,” Romy teased him. 

Sasha froze, looking Isaac over carefully now, “are _you_ okay, Isaak?” 

“...fine?” Isaac stared at him. 

“I smell blood,” Sasha said, looking to the bathroom where Isaac’s bloody clothes were still on the floor. 

“_What?_” Romy stared at Isaac. “What the hell have _you_ been up to?” 

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Isaac sighed, “just a little scuffle in the woods–” 

“A _scuffle?_” Jeanie asked, arms folded across her chest like a scolding mother. Isaac found himself inexorably reminded of Stiles. 

“Yeah, a hunter in the woods. It’s okay. Scott and I took care of it,” Isaac’s hands fidgeted at his sides. 

“One? It can’t be just _one_– We saw a whole team the other night,” Jeanie immediately went to her notes and her maps. “Where?” 

“Out in the preserve. Scott thinks it was just a scout, but you’re right. He– and the rest of the pack– think Monroe is getting too close,” Isaac joined her, pointing it out on the map of Beacon Hills. “I don’t think it’s really worth looking there again. Scott seemed more concerned that he was sent out there alone.” 

“I thought you said you went together?” Jeanie looked confused. 

“Not Scott. He was worried about the _scout._ Scott was asking him if Monroe sent him out there alone before he took him to the hospital,” Isaac explained. 

“Scott worried about _him?_” Sasha said. 

Romy, at almost the exact same time offered, “to the _hospital?_” 

“Yeah. Uh, first off I shot him– in the arm– so, he had to go to the hospital,” Isaac grew sheepish. “And Scott, well, Scott is just like that. I was more annoyed that the bastard didn’t even seem to think werewolves are people.” 

“...I think we are not people?” Sasha grew more confused. 

“We’re not _human_ as in the species, I guess, but we’re _people_, as in we’re beings that can talk and think and stuff,” Isaac offered. 

“I see, there is difference,” Sasha nodded. “Species is… type? Kind?” 

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded. “Jeanie– maybe you should meet up with Scott or Stiles or Lydia some time. They can fill you in a lot better than I can.” 

“Yes, well, I’d also like to see Uncle Chris face to face at some point,” Jeanie nodded, still frowning at her notes. 

“Oh me too! We haven’t seen Uncle Chris in forever,” Romy chimed in. She turned to Isaac almost accusingly. “He has gone to see _you_, yes?” 

“Yeah. I saw him the day he got back,” Isaac said. He paused. “I was kinda a dick to him.” 

“Why’s that?” Romy asked. 

Just as Jeanie said, “fair enough.” 

“Romy, he kinda left me for over two years? Alone, in a foreign country? Never called, never reached out, never came back?” Isaac said, tone sarcastic and vaguely patronizing. 

“Um, he did _not_ leave you there alone, he left you with _us_,” Romy almost seemed offended. “And need I remind you, American, you never called him either.” 

Isaac, firstly struck with fondness by Romy’s adamancy that Isaac had not been alone in Paris, also had to admit she wasn’t all wrong, “yeah, I know. And I’ll talk to him about it or whatever, I promise, but I just… needed to be bitter about it first.” 

“I do not blame you, don’t think I do,” Romy said quickly. “I just thought you’d be happy to see him also.” 

“I was, believe me, it’s just… weird. He only looked after me for a few months, and the first chunk of that he wasn’t exactly all there, but he… I dunno. We had an understanding, I guess,” Isaac didn’t know how to explain it. “I was upset that he left me and kind of forgot about it until I saw him again.” 

“You did the same to Scott, right?” Romy offered. 

Jeanie butted in, “that is not a fair comparison, Romarin. Isaac left a friend, yes, but Uncle Chris was his guardian who left him with a family of strangers. ” 

“Well, if we’re being honest here, I barely knew Chris when I first came to Paris anyway,” Isaac admitted. “I’d spent more time with the two of you than I had with him by the time he left.” 

“Fair enough,” Jeanie said. “Is Chris back at the McCall house right now?” 

“I don’t think so. His car wasn’t there and Melissa was at work,” Isaac shrugged. “But Scott is supposed to be home soon. He probably knows more about all this than Chris does.” 

“Right. We’ll go there then,” Jeanie started stacking her notes together in careful order. 

“What did Chris even give you..?” Isaac knew better than most that conflicts involved way too much paperwork, but it was different to see it laid out in front of him beside a map of his home town. 

“Honestly? Not enough. Most of his intel is focused on this half of the United States, but this is becoming an international issue. I need to give Aunt Valerie more than just this if we’re expecting them to be able to actually do anything,” Jeanie said, papers now pressed into an overflowing manila folder. Maybe Jeanie and Stiles had more in common than Isaac had first thought. 

“You two coming along?” Isaac turned to Romy and Sasha. 

“I want to see Uncle Chris,” Romy said. 

“And I don’t want to be left here alone,” Sasha added. 

“Right,” Isaac hesitated. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Jeanie tried to reassure him. “Uncle Chris knows I need to talk to him at some point.” 

“I’m still gonna text Scott just to be sure,” Isaac muttered. 

Scott responded almost immediately with _Yeah that’s fine! Im home Chris will be soon. Idk what I can help with but I’ll be there. I can have Stiles come too_

Isaac, after maybe an hour of peace and time alone, was back into the throes of werewolf politics. Scott came to the door, seeming surprised to see Isaac standing outside. 

“You know you can just come in, Isaac,” Scott said. His hair was wet and he had also changed clothes. 

“Uh. I don’t have a key.” 

“Oh,” this surprised Scott further. “Thats weird. Okay it makes _sense_, but still I should’ve thought of that sooner,” he went to the drawer of their hall table. “This is our spare but it’s not like anyone uses it.” 

“...thanks.” Isaac put it in his pocket, fiddling with it until the metal grew warm in his hand. 

“Is Uncle Chris here yet?” Jeanie headed to the dining table, taking out her notes, Scott watching with wide eyes. 

“No… he’s not,” Scott said. His eyebrows furrowed, “You’re Chris’s niece..?” 

Isaac knew he was thinking of Kate with mild horror and was quick to explain, “they’re not. They just call him ‘uncle’. Confused me too at first.” 

“There are too many relatives in our house to figure out who is who. Chris is, what, our second cousin?” Romy turned to Jeanie for confirmation. She shrugged. “Second cousin once removed? I never actually figured out how that stuff works. It does not matter. Easier that way.” 

“Okay, good I got a little worried there,” Scott said. “Not that it would be your fault if Kate was your mom,” he added quickly, “just would’ve surprised me if I didn’t know about it.” 

“Ugh, no,” Romy shuddered. “Her and Gerard are no longer part of the family. I mean, partially because they’re dead, but also because they’re you know, evil murderers.” 

“Right,” Scott seemed unsure of what to say to that. 

“Scott, Isaac told me you two met a scout out in the preserve earlier today. Do you know why?” Jeanie refocused them. 

“Do I know _why?_” Scott joined her, looking vaguely alarmed by all of her notes. “Did Chris send you all this?” 

“Yes. But I was hoping for more specifics,” Jeanie said. “I mean why as in has anything changed that explains why they are back in Beacon Hills? Do you know how many people Monroe has in the area right now? And how long they’ve been here?” 

“I don’t know how many people are in the area, and they’ve only been here for a little over a week I think,” Scott explained, “and, well, Stiles’ theory is that they’re moving back in on Beacon Hills because we’re all home for the summer.” 

Jeanie grew puzzled, “wouldn’t they choose to attack while you’re away?” 

“It’s not that simple. They’re not in Beacon Hills for _Beacon Hills,_ there are a lot of supernaturals here, but they’re second to, well, to getting to us,” Scott explained. “My pack is the target. We’ve been giving Monroe the most trouble from day one. They’re attacking now _because_ we’re here.” 

“Oh,” Jeanie blinked, unsurprised, but not exactly put at ease. 

“What’re you missing?” Scott asked. 

“What?” 

“You said you wanted more intel. Like what?” 

“Well,” Jeanie shuffled through papers, “there isn’t enough to discern a trackable pattern. Makes it damn near impossible to predict what they’ll do next.” 

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, “we kind of tend to play it by ear.” 

“You’re used to someone giving you information,” Isaac teased Jeanie. 

Jeanie gave him a look, “yes I am. Although you definitely never made it easy for us. The fact that you were at the same camp _Alyosha_ was visiting was a miracle of good luck,” she said. “It’d be like Monroe walking into the sheriff’s station…” 

“Well, to be fair he was only there to interrogate me,” Isaac pointed out. 

“So it would be like Monroe showing up to kidnap a member of the pack,” Romy offered. 

Scott winced, “let’s not speak that into existence.” Scott frowned, processing Romy’s words more closely, he turned to Isaac, but Jeanie kept the conversation moving, silencing him. 

“Anyway,” Jeanie returned to her work. “This might be a stretch, but it seems like Monroe’s people are encircling the town. There was Oak Creek, which is a ways out of town in the opposite direction, and then as you said you saw someone patrolling the preserve.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re actually camping out on the preserve. I think he was bait,” Scott clarified. “Sending _one_ person out there alone. I think Monroe was poking for a reaction. And to see if _we_ patrol the preserve as well.” 

“Wouldn’t they assume you all would be in the woods?” Romy asked. “Because… werewolves, you know?” 

“Romy, please tell me you’re kidding,” Isaac sighed. 

“Says the guy who has spent the past six months in the woods with a group of werewolves all the time!” Romy pouted. 

“And, Isaac, we do hang out in the preserve a lot. Well, mostly on full moons, but still. She’s not totally wrong. And we _were_ out there at the same time as the scout,” Scott pointed out. 

“Oh I like him, American. He has common sense,” Romy said smugly. 

Jeanie, somewhat irritatedly, interrupted and got them to refocus. “And did she get a reaction do you think?” 

Scott looked to Isaac, “yeah, but I don’t know if it had the effect she wanted.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Well, I shot him,” Isaac began, “but Scott saved his life.” 

The front door opened and soon Chris would be able to help them in their discussion. 

“Oh?” Jeanie seemed to be thinking hard. “Why do you think Monroe wanted you to get into an unfair fight with one of her people?” 

“Well, hopefully ‘cause she’s losing support,” instead of Chris, Stiles joined them at the table. “I mean, that’s the feeling I got from what Scott told me.” 

“Of course you’re here,” Isaac rolled his eyes. 

“I know more than you,” Stiles shot back, their banter only natural. 

Yet again Jeanie had to rein them in. “Why’s that?” Jeanie turned to Stiles. 

“I mean, Scott doesn’t exactly give off the murderous monster vibes to anyone who actually meets him. Propaganda only goes so far,” Stiles shrugged. “She tried to have Scott gunned down, maybe that’s because she’s worried soon she won’t be able to try that again. She sent off one guy alone, easy pickings, hoping we’d kill him or hurt him or scare him enough to remind her people why they’re fighting.” 

“Except that obviously didn’t happen,” Isaac pointed out. 

“Yeah no thanks to you. I heard you shot the guy?” Stiles teased. 

“Would you prefer I let him kill us both?” Isaac scoffed. Stiles gave him a look, almost praising. Almost. 

“How do you think things are going, then?” Jeanie asked. “Overall. Have you made progress?” 

Scott and Stiles exchanged a weighted look. “We’re holding our own,” Scott spoke carefully. “Monroe moving back in on Beacon Hills… it’s another step out of several. Things have picked up in the past few weeks. We’re not just having rescue missions or disrupting their efforts… we’ve had to fight to just make sure everyone gets out okay.” 

“So–” Isaac started talking without really knowing where he was going. “What happened a few nights back… Was that… not unusual?” Was how he decided to phrase it. 

“It doesn’t get that bad often,” Scott said. 

“It still gets pretty bad, Scotty,” Stiles interjected. 

“Well, now you guys are here,” Scott changed the subject. 

“I do not know how much help the two of us will be,” Jeanie sighed. 

“Have you guys heard from Leo? Or Simon?” Isaac asked. “I mean, I still don’t think Leo should be coming, but Simon?” 

“Leo is coming whether we like it or not, it seems. But not for a few more days at least,” Jeanie said. 

“Two– _two_ more people are coming?” Stiles squinted at her exasperatedly. “I thought when you said we’d have the Argents helping us, you meant the _Argents_, not the french breakfast club.” 

“That didn’t even make sense,” Isaac muttered. 

“Basketcase,” Stiles shot back. 

“More are coming,” Romy finally cut in. “After they clean up in Russia. America isn’t our mess. If you all weren’t important to the family then we honestly wouldn’t have bothered.” 

“Not exactly in line with our new philosophy,” Isaac frowned. 

“We’re important to the family?” Scott asked. 

“Probably because Chris is here,” Stiles offered. 

Romy laughed, “uh. No. We love Chris and he _is_ family, but he never asked for our help. We’re helping you because _Isaac_ is here.” 

“So– Wait, he comes back from six months in Russia and asks you all to drop everything and come to America to help him fight _other hunters_ and you all just agree? Just like that?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s an Argent matter now,” Jeanie cut in. “If one of ours is involved, we all are.” 

Yet again the front door opened and Chris was confronted by too many familiar faces and one less so. 

“Oncle Chris! Tu nous as manqué. Comment pourriez-vous ne pas visiter? Vous n'avez aucune idée des problèmes dans lesquels Isaac s'est retrouvé. Vous a-t-il montré sa balle en argent? Eh bien, griffe d'argent, mais vous savez ce que je voulais dire–” Romy was all chatter. 

“You speak English with me but not with Chris?” Isaac gave her a look. 

Romy paused, seemingly only now aware of her own contradiction. “...I did not think of that. Shall I translate..?” 

“No, Romarin, it’s alright. Yes, Isaac showed me his silver claw,” Chris took it all in stride. 

“It is good to see you,” Jeanie greeted him far more calmly with a kiss on either cheek. 

“How is everyone? How’s Valerie? Louise?” Chris asked. 

“Good. Busy. Tante Val has been working herself into the ground but thanks to my favorite American, we’ll be out of Russia soon,” Romy punched Isaac on the arm. “And mum is good. A little pissy about me coming to the states, but psh, I am an adult now, what can she do?” Jeanie scoffed. 

“And you must be the boy Isaac had to save in Russia,” Chris turned to Sasha. Sasha almost seemed to shrink. 

“Yes,” Sasha’s voice was higher than usual. “You are Isaak’s…” 

“Chris,” Scott grinned. 

“I do not understand,” Sasha frowned. “I know his name already.” 

Isaac gave Scott a look. Scott pressed on. “He’s Isaac’s Chris.” 

“Sure. I suppose that works,” Chris sighed. “I’m Isaac’s… Chris.” 

“I see,” Sasha either understood or simply wanted to move on. “Good to meet you.” 

“You too,” Chris did seem to look him over, make some form of assessment. Isaac didn’t know what to make of it and Sasha definitely didn’t. 

Jeanie, who had been watching the exchange in mild exasperation, interrupted. “Sorry to skip the pleasantries, but Chris if you would not mind,” Jeanie referred to her notes. 

“Right,” Chris refocused. “I have some updates of my own,” he rummaged through his own bag, taking out a fresh map of Mexico and the southwestern United States. 

Romy groaned dramatically, “things are about to get _boring._” 

“Yeah. I’m a little tired of werewolf politics,” Isaac agreed. 

“You do not have to stay,” Jeanie told them shortly, still focused on Chris’s new map. 

“Good enough for me, American?” Romy bounced on her heels, heading for the door, she paused to contemplate Sasha. “...Russian?” 

“Him too, huh?” Isaac said. Scott looked after him like he wanted to say something. Isaac felt a little bad to leave him to deal with werewolf politics alone, but he also had a feeling that this still made sense. Scott’s job was to listen to people like Stiles and Jeanie, Isaac’s job was to keep Romy and Sasha busy in the meantime. “Come on. I want to go get some things.” 

“Ooh we’re going somewhere?” Romy was immediately on board. 

“I want to get some groceries. For the McCalls,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Aw but that’s boring,” Romy still jumped for the front seat. 

“You want to go back in and chat about how the Calaveras can’t be convinced to fight to defend supernaturals? Or maybe about Monroe’s number’s growing internationally, hm? Something positive, right?” Isaac said dryly. 

“You’ve proved your point,” Romy grumbled. 

Isaac almost regretted his plan immediately. Grocery stores were loud, bright, and full of people. 

“I can push the trolley,” Romy immediately kicked off and rode it down the aisle. 

“Romy be careful,” Isaac said. 

“_Why are we here?_” Sasha stuck close to Isaac, speaking soft Russian. 

“_I thought you were trying to learn English?_” Isaac switched with him. 

Sasha gave a weighted sigh. “_I am_ tired _ of it. I have been speaking English with the French for days now. It’s giving me a headache._” 

The Russian was garnering looks from the customers around them, but not as much as Romy was as she crashed the cart into a shelf. 

“_Romarin, what the fuck did I just ask?_” Isaac groaned, French coming to mind first in his irritation. 

Romy immediately froze, looking stricken. “Isaac, you have _never_ called me Romarin before. Don’t you dare do it again. And why _French?_ We’re in America for a week and you’ve never been more European.” 

“Well, stop causing trouble,” Isaac muttered, taking the cart from her. 

“Oh, no way in hell, American,” Romy bumped shoulders with him. “Fucking _Romarin_... worse, you pronounced it _correctly._ Your butchering of French was the foundation of our relationship.” 

“God, it’s like herding cats sometimes…” Isaac complained. 

“What have _I_ done?” Sasha frowned. 

“Distracted me from watching _her,_” he shot Romy a glare. 

“Aw, is it not one of my charms, American?” Romy feigned a pout. Isaac could scold her all he wanted, but he was endeared. Especially after so many months without her antics. 

“Why are we here, Isaak?” Sasha refocused. 

“Yes. I was wondering that also. Other than avoiding the werewolf paperwork,” Romy added. 

“I… miss baking,” Isaac shrugged. “And the McCalls don’t have many ingredients handy, so. Thought I’d fill in the gaps.” 

“Oooh please tell me you’re making bread!” Romy was fully on board. 

“Well, no. But I could pick up some yeast too. I was more thinking cookies. Or maybe a butter pecan pie… I don’t know. Ms. McCall likes butter pecan,” Isaac grabbed the essentials; flour, baking powder, vanilla, and so on. “We’re out of milk too,” he muttered, adding it to the pile. The weight of that association, of _we’re out of milk_, almost passed him by. Almost. Isaac felt like he’d skipped a step. _We. Us. Ours._ Strange. Maybe even just as strange as Romy’s insistence that the Argents were here for the _Argents,_ they were here for _him_ and that meant the same thing. 

The house was quieter on their return, everyone seemed more worn down than they had an hour prior. 

Stiles seemed oddly frozen, instead of all motion he remained at the dining table, staring intently at the maps and scribbled notes like somehow they would change or reveal something more to him. Isaac didn’t like seeing him so quiet and paused. 

“You know, if you just take a step back and look at the whole picture, you might notice something you would’ve have otherwise,” Isaac offered. 

Stiles glanced to him, almost unsettled by his sincerity. 

“Or maybe just take a step back and breathe. You’re thinking pretty hard there. Don’t hurt yourself,” Isaac tried to return to lighter tones. 

“As if you know what thinking hard is, Lahey,” Stiles muttered. Still, Stiles seemed less out of it. 

Isaac left Stiles to it, instead going to unpack his groceries. 

“Isaac, honey, you didn’t have to do that!” Melissa said, turning away from Chris and helping him unload. 

“It’s nothing, Ms. McCall. Argent money,” Isaac shrugged. “I wanted to do some baking anyway. If that’s okay.” 

“I know I should say no, but how can I? I’ll eat whatever you make and do my best not to regret it,” Melissa kissed him on the cheek before returning to the living room where Jeanie and Scott were dealing with Romy’s rambling, which filled the silence left by the still distracted Stiles. 

“Let me help,” Chris joined him, Isaac replying with a nod. 

After a few painful seconds of silence, Isaac toughened up. 

“Hey, uh, Chris, I’m–” 

“I’m sorry I never reached out,” Chris beat him to it. Another weighted silence, Isaac just staring at him, unsure what there was to puzzle out. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you before,” still unsure of what to say, Isaac went with his original plan. 

“Don’t be,” Chris shook his head. “I’m the adult, the guardian, whatever– I’m the one who is supposed to check up on you. And I should’ve known better than to… to plan on ‘giving you space’ indefinitely,” Chris quoted that with a scoff, seeming to judge his past self. “I know I wasn’t really there for you until the end, but know that I want to be now, in whatever capacity works for you.” Chris paused, a serious frown left Isaac unsure if he was meant to reply. “I know it was only a few months, so I don’t expect you to feel the same, but you’re family to me, Isaac. As much as Melissa and Scott are.” 

“I was only mad at first because I missed you,” Isaac muttered, arms folded over his chest. “And I don’t want to hold onto that. And I shouldn’t have to, right? We’re all here now.” 

“Good,” Chris nodded. “I’m glad you feel that way.” 

Isaac paused, mulling something over. “I dunno if things are going to be what they were back in France, if that would even be a good thing. I mean. I’ve changed.” Isaac looked to the living room, thinking of Scott and Melissa. “You’ve changed. So, I don’t know if you’re really my _guardian_ anymore, Valerie and Gabriel– and Dr. Bhatt too, honestly– they filled that gap more than you did. But…” Isaac, who had been scuffing his feet on the hardwood and staring at the floor, looked back up to Chris. “You’re still something to me. Family, I guess…” Isaac took a deep breath. “No, not _I guess_– you _are_ family to me. Even if it’s not so clear cut.” 

Chris laughed softly. “Yeah. I don’t know if it’s ever clear cut.” 

Isaac didn’t know if they would ever get to the point where they might easily and blatantly say that they loved each other, but maybe they didn’t need to. Chris would hug him, hesitating only to make sure Isaac had moved to reciprocate, and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels more filler to me, but I hope you enjoy the read anyway! I needed Chris and Isaac to talk things over to some extent, and I wanted to check in with our Europeans. But more Scisaac chats are on the way!
> 
> (also I'm shit at writing texting in ao3, I hope it makes some sense?)


	32. Chapter 32

Late at night wasn’t exactly the best time to start baking, but Isaac had always made it work. If not staying up late only to leave the dough to chill or rise overnight, then at least committing to staying up however long it took for whatever it was to bake. Isaac wasn’t alone in this task.

“When did you get so into baking?” Scott asked, staring at Isaac’s hands as he rolled out the dough. 

“Uh. Paris?” 

Scott gave him a teasing look, “okay. I guess I meant _why_ did you get into baking all of the sudden?” 

Isaac didn’t respond immediately. He just kept rolling the dough out in front of him. The McCalls didn’t have a rolling pin, something Isaac had neglected to check, so he was currently using an empty wine bottle. “If we’re talking like, in the grand scheme of things...” Isaac frowned. The house was quieter, but not quite silent. Chris and Melissa had gone up to bed and Isaac’s friends had left for the hotel. Stiles had crashed on the couch and Lydia was planning on joining them soon. Until then, Isaac would rest in this peace with Scott. 

“Didn’t realize it was such a hard question,” Scott said. “I mean, I get it. Grief– you need a hobby. Pack stuff kept me busy, but otherwise… I don’t know what I would have done.” 

Isaac exhaled a bitter laugh. “It wasn’t that. Or, it wasn’t _just_ that.” Isaac pushed his hair back, flour brushing through curls. Another pause, Scott waiting patiently. “My whole personality, until Derek bit me, it was just surviving my father. If you could even call that a personality… And once that was over, it took me a really long time to figure out who I actually am, what I like to do. I tried figuring it out, with Derek, and later with you… but it was different. I still didn’t feel any sense of security with Derek and with you I was just trying to… I dunno. Get used to being safe. I didn’t just take a minute to figure myself out until Paris. And a while into Paris, the first year or so there was messy too.” 

“Oh,” Scott looked so serious, clearly struggling to of something to say. “You… you think you didn’t have a personality before? We were kids, no one knew who they were yet–” 

“I have a feeling you had some vague sense of self pre-werewolf,” Isaac said sarcastically. “You had something to build on at least.” 

“I’m not saying things weren’t hard, but you had hobbies, right? You were still a person, just a person in really shitty circumstances,” Scott was trying to find some way to console him. Such a Scott thing to do, but not what Isaac was looking for or needed. He knew who he was now and where he stood. The past would remain the past. “What about lacrosse?” Scott tried. 

Isaac laughed. “Wasn’t my choice. Contact sport is a good excuse for bruises,” Isaac said vehemently as he cut apart the dough. 

“Oh.” 

Isaac paused in his work, leaning against the counter. “Kinda killed the mood, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t mind,” Scott said quietly. He could read Isaac too easily. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?” 

“It’s morbid.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“I…” Isaac sighed. “I wasn’t planning on surviving this long?” He phrased it as a question and wasn’t really sure why. Maybe because he thought that warranted a response. Scott offered nothing but disarming puppy eyes. “Come on, don’t look at me like that. I’d told you before I thought my dad was gonna kill me one day. I– I mean you can’t be surprised by that.” 

“I guess I’m not,” Scott said. “I’m still gonna feel bad about it. You spent years thinking you didn’t have a future. That… it doesn’t make me angry, exactly. But it’s not fair.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac turned to the oven, preheating now. “It really isn’t.” 

“Do you want my help?” 

“Sure.” 

Scott joined him, cutting circles in the dough, their shoulders touching. Chatter came from the living room, Lydia having arrived and woken up Stiles. 

Scott eventually spoke, staring through the doorway in the direction of his two best friends. “So, now that you’re here… now that you’ve… survived, what are you planning on?” 

Isaac felt blank. Nothing came to mind. Getting _here_ had been his goal for so long now he didn’t know what to do. “Honestly? I still can’t picture myself getting married or settling down or whatever bullshit normal people planned on.” 

“Ever?” Scott looked to him, something too imploring in his expression. 

“I dunno. Hasn’t really been on my priority list. I’ve been too busy recovering from the past to plan that far ahead,” Isaac kept moving, anything to stop himself from overthinking what that look meant. “I know Cam always wanted to get married. He had that figured out. Didn’t want to go to college and had no idea what his career plan was, as dad loved to remind him…” Isaac tried to pull away from bitterness. “But he wanted to get married. And… I think about that wedding sometimes. I’m sure he told me something about his plans, but I just can’t remember it…” Isaac felt an old wound open in his chest. “I’m never gonna be his best man. He’s never going to figure out what he wants to do with his life because he doesn’t _have_ a life,” Isaac’s voice broke off. He hadn’t planned on being this vulnerable. “I find myself thinking about that stuff, a-and about how so many cruelties like that are true for everyone we’ve lost.” 

Scott nodded. “Graduation… Graduation hurt a lot more than I thought it would. There was this weird moment where I realized I was looking for her when they were listing off the As…” Scott looked so tired. “I hate that every milestone hurts because she’ll never get there. I know that me hurting means I still care, and I need to keep caring, but it _hurts._” 

Isaac’s throat felt very tight now, an anger that could only come from grief rose up too easily. “Erica never got her fucking license,” every word came out bitter and trembling. “I remember when I got mine, in Paris, I came home and cried because it was something I’d done that she never would. She was sixteen– Fuck, she was _sixteen._ I can’t believe it’s been four years…” Isaac wiped his eyes, turning away. “They were just kids. Boyd– I can still hear him dying. He– He was _dying_ and he was trying to tell Derek it was okay… None of it was fair. He was insanely smart. Did you know that? He was gonna be an engineer or something, I just know it. He should’ve had the chance to _do_ something with his life, but he never even made it to eighteen...” 

“Allison, she did the same. She was bleeding out in my arms and she told me it was okay,” Scott didn’t brush away tears, he let go into it. “She could’ve changed the world. If she had led the Argents, if she had kept working with hunters, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess now…” 

“Maybe,” Isaac sighed. “I tried to do what she would’ve done. Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes. It’s changed the Argents, but… it hasn’t changed enough. We’re still fighting the same war we were four years ago.” 

“I think she’d be proud,” Scott said. “Of the both of us. I _hope_ she’d be proud…” 

Lydia and Stiles entered. Isaac felt himself step back so he and Scott were no longer touching without fully knowing why. 

“Whoa. You two look like someone died,” Stiles noted. “What’re you guys up to?” 

Isaac grew silent as the energy in the room seemed to shift around Lydia and Stiles. unsure of what to do with the ache in his chest. “I should… I should get these in the oven…” 

“We were…” Scott shrugged. “We were talking about Allison.” 

“Oh.” 

“What about her?” Lydia frowned. 

“Do you guys remember graduation?” Was how Scott began. 

“Barely,” Stiles said. “I was just glad I made it there.” 

“I know what you mean,” Lydia leaned against the counter beside Stiles. “Same thing with the senior scribe. It was still good and felt like an accomplishment, but it felt off too.” 

Isaac had forgotten about senior scribe. Strange. 

“I remember thinking about Heather. A few times during senior year, I don’t know. She was just… she was someone to me when we were really little and I only saw her again for her to die the same day,” Stiles fell into the melancholy with ease. “She’s never gonna have another birthday. You know?” 

“Yeah. I do,” Isaac spoke softly. “Our town has quite the body count…” 

“We keep living for them, right?” Lydia spoke up. “For Allison. For all of them.” 

“Yeah,” Scott looked to Isaac, something so sad and even _longing_ in his eyes. “We do.” 

They relaxed now, each leaning against the kitchen island, no one sure of what to say. Isaac continued to shuffle around the kitchen, Scott silently helping him clean up. 

Some time later Scott broke that silence. “Hey, uh. Isaac?” 

“Mhm?” Isaac looked to Scott, unsure now. 

“What did…” Scott frowned, picking at the loose threads of the towel in front of the sink. “What did your friend Romy mean by ‘like Monroe showing up to kidnap a member of the pack’?” 

“Oh,” Isaac calmed, “she didn’t mean anything by it. Sorry if it freaked you out, she has less tact than me sometimes–” 

“No, not that,” Scott did not calm. A moment of silence, Isaac’s anxiety growing. Lydia and Stiles watched silently. “Everything you two said. That alpha you mentioned, him showing up to interrogate you, your friends having to pull you out of Russia…” Isaac felt sick. “What _happened_ to you, Isaac?” 

“Why do you want to hear this?” Isaac sounded so cold. He wasn’t even trying to put up walls or keep this away from Scott, it just came to him naturally, this feeling of exhaustion and harsh acceptance that did not need to belong to Scott too. 

Scott said nothing, just stared at him, trying to glean something from his expression. 

“Fine–” Isaac turned to face him head on. “If this is where we’re going– Why don’t we talk about how a few nights ago someone tried to shoot you in the head and you just walked it off like it meant nothing? About how Stiles thinks things have been going to hell lately and you don’t acknowledge it?” 

“Stiles is–” 

“–not overreacting,” Isaac cut him off. 

“Thank you!” Stiles drummed his fingers on the counter. “I am not.” 

“I’m worried too, Scott. We all worry about you,” Lydia joined in. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Scott muttered as he was outnumbered. 

“Why? Because this all falls to you? Weight of the world on your shoulders and yours alone, right?” Isaac knew he was being harsh, but this time it felt more warranted. “You know better than that, Scott. That’s not what pack _is._” 

“You’re deflecting,” Scott pointed out. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t want to tell me. But don’t push it off like this.” 

“Will _you_ talk about it?” 

Scott nodded slowly. “If you do… yeah.” He looked to Stiles and Lydia, who both seemed unsure if this conversation was meant for them. “If we’re all going to start being honest with each other.” 

_Fuck_ Isaac just nodded back, stalling. “What have I told you? So far?” 

“Not much. You… took care of the prisoners there. And at some point, one of your friends was captured and you rescued him. I never got the details.” 

“I don’t really know anything,” Lydia looked Isaac over carefully. “What all am I missing here?” 

“A lot,” Isaac sighed. “Long story short, I was undercover in Russia for six months and I–” Isaac knew that the whole point of this conversation was vulnerability. If it would get Scott talking, he would suck it up. “I needed to get information. To send to the Argents. And the only way I could do that was by going down into this bunker and cleaning up torture victims the pack had captured. So. That was a fucking nightmare. And eventually one of my friends, an Argent, he showed up there. And I had to get him out.” 

“You… you were there for six months?” Lydia stared at him. She seemed to tense. 

“It wasn’t always that bad,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Hey, we’re supposed to be honest here,” Stiles interjected. 

“It wasn’t,” Isaac said sharply. “I…” Isaac couldn’t help but think back on his life with his father. How he justified the life he was living with _it wasn’t always that bad._ “I don’t know. I met Sasha there. I was helping the Argents.” 

“Didn’t you ever just want to up and leave?” Lydia asked. 

“Yeah. But the thought of going back home knowing I could’ve ended things sooner… I couldn’t deal with that,” Isaac, despite all the suffering it had caused, would not go back on that stance. “So, I had to get my friend out. He was in bad shape. I–” Isaac took a deep breath. _This is your pack. You can let go now._ “I couldn’t add him to a pile of bodies. I– I couldn’t help him kill himself. Not like the others.” 

Stiles visibly paled. He opened his mouth to say something, Lydia took his hand, the slightest shake of her head, and Stiles held his tongue. Isaac was grateful. They could _know_ that part of things, but Isaac definitely didn’t want to talk about it. 

“I got him out. I could’ve left,” Isaac refused to look at Scott. He knew the further this went the more it would hurt, but he also refused to stop. He would be honest with these people with a vengeance because he had _needed_ this for so long. He had needed _pack._ Scott, of course, Scott _always_, but Lydia and Stiles were pack. The two of them, Scott, Melissa and Chris, they were why he was here. “What do you all know about Alyosha?” 

“He’s the alpha, right? Of that Russian pack?” Stiles asked. 

“Alpha feels like an understatement,” Isaac slouched against the cabinets, growing more brooding by the minute. “He was a damn cult leader. The alpha of alphas in a much bigger web than Deucalion’s. I never met him until those last few days. I got Leo out, but I had to go back. Alyosha was coming to the camp. Apparently to interrogate me, but I didn’t know that at the time. Romy and Jeanie told me he was a murderer, a predator with a thing for teenage boys with yellow eyes.” 

Lydia stared at him with wide eyes, “and you went back?” 

“Sasha was still in there,” Isaac remained adamant and unwavering. “I wasn’t going to disappear when someone needed me.” 

“Of course,” Scott seemed torn between pride and worry. Isaac didn’t volunteer any more information. “There’s more, isn’t there? You can talk to us, Ise. Whatever it is.” 

“Only if you’ll do the same.” 

“This isn’t about me right now.” 

“Of course you’d say that,” Isaac muttered. “I went back. Sasha didn’t believe me when I tried to warn him, not that I blame him I wasn’t too good at explaining it, but when I tried to leave… I got caught. They found me out. This creepy fucking werewolf, he was _always_ fully turned, blue eyes, fangs out… he stopped me before I could get away from the house. Last thing I thought was that I’d just killed myself by being stupid enough to go back. Next thing I knew I woke up chained up in the bunker. Just like the hunters…” 

No one interrupted. No one spoke at all. Isaac partly hated the attention, but there was no judgment here. A deal was a deal. If he got through this, Scott would be open too. But the thought of letting these things go felt like reopening a wound. 

“Isaac, don’t think that I want you to relive this or do anything to hurt yourself, I just know you’ve… you’ve been holding back. And I don’t want you to think you have to be like that,” Scott spoke up in the pause. 

“No, I get it,” Isaac felt a little sick. He slid down against the counter and sunk to the floor. “I just don’t know how to do this,” he mumbled. 

“I got a hole drilled into my head.” Lydia sat down across from him. It was such a strange sort of circumstances where that was a natural topic shift. “I spent hours waiting for it to kill me. It never did. Hours in that kind of pain and my head... It was so wrong. Maybe it was banshee powers or maybe it was just a side effect of the physical wounds, but nothing felt real. Hearing voices is one thing… this was all of that turned up to 11. I was sick and everything hurt and it got hard to breathe and to think and I don’t know if I ever was fully coherent but at some point I thought– okay, what if I survive this but something is still wrong with me?” 

Stiles sat down beside Lydia, holding onto her hand and gently pressing a kiss onto her knuckles. Scott joined Isaac, only a few inches between them. 

“Lydia… I…” Isaac didn’t know what he could say. 

“It’s all kind of blurry now,” Lydia continued. She looked to Isaac. “Isn’t it?” 

Isaac eventually nodded. “I was in there for a few days. I didn’t even realize they left me alone that long. Or maybe… when they were there it was longer than I thought… don’t know how. It _felt_ like hours…” 

The somber mood refocused on Isaac. His world felt so small now. The four of them settled on the floor of the kitchen, the house so quiet and all of them so contained together. It felt safe. Scott’s hand came to rest beside his, barely touching him. _Safe._

“They tried to get in my head at first,” Isaac started talking. Once he did, he didn't know if he would be able to stop. “Nikita, he was the alpha at that camp, they held me down and he dug into my neck and it was like trying to control a flood. But I stopped him. I… well, I shoved him into some nights with dear old dad and that got him to back off real quick.” 

“Wait. You… you sent him to a specific memory?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You _controlled_ that?” 

“Well, I think _control_ is being a bit generous. I… I managed. Bhatt– my therapist– he’s an ex emissary and he told me that… it’s your head. You can’t kick them out, but you decide what happens to them,” Isaac tried to explain. “That makes it sound easier than it actually is, but it worked.” Isaac tensed. “I almost wish it hadn’t. Okay, that’s a lie, I couldn’t let them get in my head because then they’d find out that Romy and Jeanie were camped out alone a few miles away waiting for me.” 

“Shit,” Stiles let out a low whistle. “High stakes, huh?” 

Isaac laughed roughly, “yeah. High stakes…” Isaac bit his lip. It was like there was a barrier physically stopping the words from getting out. It was the kind of silence reminiscent of his father bearing down on him, the kind of fear that suffocated him. He couldn’t let this control any part of him. 

“They couldn’t get in my head, so they had to try another way,” Isaac’s mouth had gotten very dry. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“Too late for that, Scott,” Isaac wasn’t sure if he sounded angry or hysterical. “This woman, Tanya, she was nice to me for months. She was the one who dug the bullets out after I ran from the hunters, she was the one who checked in on me and Sasha, she was the one who welcomed me there, and she was the one who showed up to put nails in me.” 

“_Nails?_ Don’t you mean claws?” Stiles interrupted. 

“No, Stiles, I mean _nails_. As in a pile of rusty nails she stabbed into me and left there,” Isaac sounded angry. He felt like he should’ve sounded more scared, more _hurt_. He looked to Scott. “I could feel myself trying to heal around them, you know? It made it hurt worse, I think.” 

“I know what you mean,” Scott inexplicably glanced to Stiles, who wasn’t looking him in the eye. 

“I’m still so sorry,” Stiles mumbled. 

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Scott pressed on. 

“...what?” 

“Uh, you know. Was possessed by an evil fox spirit. Did some fucked up things. Including stabbing Scott and… electrocuting you. Remember it all…” Stiles shuddered. “Old news, really,” he added dismissively. 

“Shit…” Isaac stared between the two of them. “So, you remember stabbing your best friend. And Scott- you remember Stiles stabbing you.” 

“It wasn’t _really_ him.” 

“Same face, though,” Isaac shot back. “I’m not saying it's Stiles’ fault, obviously, but that can’t have been easy.” 

“None of this has been easy,” Lydia said. “Still, _nails_. That’s a new one for us. Scott and I– we were trying to find Derek. The Calaveras got us instead. They–” Lydia’s frown deepened. “They had Kira shock him. Said they would hurt me if she didn’t.” 

Scott moved to interject, “Lydia–” 

“Don’t pretend that wasn’t what happened. They hurt you and you took it because I’m more breakable,” Lydia’s tone grew sharp. “That isn’t fair. You’re _allowed_ to feel like that wasn’t fair, Scott.” 

“They tortured you? To… to try and find Derek?” Isaac, who had felt sick since this conversation started, looked to Scott, trying to read his expression for more from him. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Scott shook his head. “It wasn’t _days_ like it was for you. We were only there a few hours at most.” 

“You say that like it changes things,” Isaac said. “I’m not dismissing what happened to me so you can’t either.” 

“Fine. It was _bad_, but we got out. And we found Derek. Everything worked out,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, _that_ time…” Stiles muttered. 

“I’ll talk about my stuff when it's my turn,” Scott gave him a look. 

“Oh we’re taking _turns,_ that’s how this works?” Isaac asked sarcastically. 

“I am a little curious about how you got out of there,” Lydia turned back to him. “If you want to keep going.” 

“No, but it’s my _turn_, apparently,” Isaac gave Scott a look which was met with a sheepish shrug. “After a while, Tanya left me alone. And I…” Isaac almost felt bad for how gruesome this must sound. Almost. “I took a nail out of my leg?” 

“_Shit._ Fuckin’ werewolves… I don’t wanna think about how much that could’ve bled from a human,” Stiles winced. Isaac, remembering how much blood had pooled on the floor, did nothing to correct him. 

“Why? Why bother trying at all for one nail?” Lydia frowned. 

“It was a weapon,” Isaac shrugged. 

“Dude. _You’re_ a weapon. You’re literally a werewolf,” Stiles countered. 

“And weren’t you chained down? What was your plan?” Scott asked. 

“Ah, well,” Isaac was irritated by how much context, how much _unpleasant_ context, came with this story. “I couldn’t turn. Tanya poisoned me. There was wolfsbane in the water. And I was gonna break my hand, well, _hands_, to get free.” 

“If you couldn’t turn, you couldn’t _heal_,” Scott pointed out. “What was your plan with that?” 

“Uh. I mean, normally when I pulled that move, I would heal, but you’re right. I kind of just thought, if I only broke my thumb I’d still be able to hold the nail?” Isaac offered, like that lessened the blow in any way. 

“Normally? _Normally?_ What about any of this is _normal_ to you?” Stiles blustered. 

“Stiles, keep it down. My mom’s asleep,” Scott chastised him lightly. 

“_That’s_ your take away from this?” Stiles huffed. 

“You want to know what I’m talking about or not?” Isaac snapped. Stiles remained quiet. “Right, so. This is going off topic, but when I officially started training to be a hunter, I had to get initiated. So when they kidnapped me–” 

“When _what?_” Stiles was the only one who looked surprised. 

“Argent initiation, they kidnap the kid and threaten them so they know what the stakes are,” Lydia told him offhandedly. 

“Right. ‘Cause that makes perfect sense,” Stiles sputtered. “How do _you_ know that?” 

“Allison told me about it after I found out about, you know, all the supernatural nonsense,” Lydia explained. 

“Well, they time how long it takes for you to get out and I just… broke my hands,” Isaac shrugged. “It worked. Hell, it even worked in the bunker, just not very long.” 

“You want to elaborate on that, maybe?” Stiles asked when he didn’t continue. 

“I’ll get to it,” Isaac said. “Then Alyosha came.” The sense of concern they all radiated only grew worse. “There was something about it that was just _wrong._ Like, he was worse than not human, he was just _off._ It was the way they reacted to him, it was just… pure terror. And his eyes… red or not it’s like he could see through you. He didn’t touch me or anything, not to say he didn’t want to, but he didn’t. I never gave him the fucking chance. He got in my head. Same as Nikita. But I couldn’t push him out, until…” Isaac smiled softly, looking to Scott. Part of him desperately wanted to keep quiet, to not let them in any further. This felt like going beyond vulnerability, this was more than trust, whatever that meant. He supposed that was what _pack_ meant. “I thought of you. I don’t know how exactly, but that stumped him. I mean, I also threw him into a memory of the freezer, but he’d gotten out of everything else. And when he finally got his fucking claws out of my neck, he actually seemed _scared._ Well, maybe not scared, but embarrassed. Said that Nikita didn’t tell him about… uh. About _альфа без отметки_.” To say his friends gave him a blank look would be an understatement. “It’s like, I mean best I can translate it is an ‘unmarked alpha.’ Took me a while to figure out what the hell that meant, and my running theory is it’s how they say true alpha. An alpha that didn’t need to kill to get power, an alpha _unmarked_ by killing. I guess… I guess Scott did something. Like… maybe he couldn’t get through to me if Scott was my alpha. I won’t pretend like it makes sense, and if I’d had more time I would’ve asked Bhatt about it, but… that’s what happened. I think.” 

“That’s what you meant. When you said I saved you,” Scott was giving him an especially tender smile. 

“What made you think if Scott? Why the hell would he be in a memory of the _freezer?_” Stiles asked. 

“Uh,” Isaac hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Okay, so. Whatever memory I put Alyosha through, I had to feel it too. And it’d been a long time since I’d been in the freezer. I needed something to stave off a full blown breakdown, and… Scott. Not just Scott. The Argents too, Chris and Melissa and… well, the pack. I wasn’t gonna be trapped ever again because someone would be there to get me out.” 

“That’s… that’s really nice, Isaac,” Lydia looked so understanding. “In Eichen no matter how scared I got, I knew Scott and Stiles were coming. You need something like that to hold onto.” 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. At the waystation, I was freaked out of my mind, but I had to believe you guys would remember me.” 

Isaac thought back on what followed that realization, what followed after he got Alyosha out of his head. “Not gonna lie, things got bad. And I knew no one would think to come looking for me for a few more days. They would look for me _eventually_, but I thought by then they would’ve finished with me and thrown me in the pit with all the other dead.” 

“Shit,” Stiles shook his head. “I mean, I knew this wasn’t gonna be a cheerful story, but, _shit._” 

“It’s not over yet,” Isaac muttered ruefully. “But I got a few good licks in. When they were figuring out what the hell they were gonna do with me, I broke free. It didn’t even hurt. Well, it did later, but it took a while for it to hit me. And I… I stabbed Alyosha in the eye.” 

“You–” Lydia seemed at a loss for words. 

“Yeah. He was kinda short, honestly. Wasn’t hard.” 

“Did you kill him?” Stiles asked. 

“No. I mean, I tried to, but before I got the chance… Nikita said if I did anything they were going to kill Sasha. More specifically, he was gonna tear him apart in front of me. So, I stopped fighting,” Isaac would not regret his decision, but he could still feel bitter about it. 

“Can we get to the part where you escape just a little faster? I… this is just upsetting. You’re allowed to vent to us, but… it’s just a lot,” Lydia grimaced. 

“It’s okay. The point of this isn’t to horrify you. Not to say I have any clue what the point actually _is,_ but I won’t dwell on it,” Isaac pushed onwards. “They, uh,” Isaac coughed sharply as his voice began to tremble. “Next time around they put me in a freezer.” He couldn’t control it. He still sounded so unsteady. 

“They…” Scott looked so wounded. “Isaac… I had no idea.” 

“How would you know? Not like I announced it,” Isaac had to be cold. Otherwise, he didn’t know how he was going to get through this. “Fuck… I don’t think I’d ever fought so hard in my life. I couldn’t turn, I was already bloody as hell, but I… getting put in a box again, it wasn’t an _option._ I was kicking and screaming, I bit a chunk out of Lev– another werewolf– his neck, and I would’ve killed him, I think. If Alyosha hadn’t grabbed me. I could hold off one of them if I just kept moving and kicked hard enough, but they both h-held me down and…” Isaac looked down at his hands, a sharp pain surprising him. He had dug his nails into his palms. “It wasn’t even a freezer, it was a chest. Not like it made a difference… And it wasn’t even for information at that point. I hate to admit it, but if they'd let me out then I think I might’ve told them anything they wanted. It was a matter of wounded _pride._ Alyosha was alive because I let him be. He couldn’t take that.” 

“Hold on a fuckin’ minute here– did you say you _bit a chunk out of his neck?_” Stiles stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly. 

“But… you couldn’t turn,” Scott looked more than a little horrified. 

“You did it with your teeth, didn’t you?” Lydia looked surprisingly calm, if not a bit paler than usual. 

“Yeah. He healed.” Isaac sighed, hands wrung in his lap. “Look, I’m not gonna go over the details of the next few hours. I’ll leave it to your imaginations. The point is, eventually Sasha pulled me out of there.” 

“And, what, the two of you fought off all the Russians on your own? Where were the baddies during all this?” Stiles asked. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t anything quite so heroic. A lot more stumbling through the woods. And…” Isaac winced, a hand going to his shoulder. Wounds, healed or not, left memories behind. “Boyra.” 

“What’s that?” Scott frowned. 

“The same werewolf who stopped me from running. He stopped us, tore open my shoulder, dislocated it, but Sasha… not sure if you guys have noticed, but he packs quite the punch for his size.” 

“Understatement of the year,” Stiles scoffed. “As Malia so astutely said, he isn’t afraid to use his _teeth._” 

“Mhm, that’s where he tore of someone’s jaw. And then smashed a rock over his head, which… wasn’t pretty. We were almost home free by then,” Isaac wanted this to be over with. “We made it to the road, couldn’t find the Argents, I was bleeding out, Sasha started shouting for help, some of the Volos showed up, almost killed us both, the Argents opened fired, I passed out, next thing I knew I was in the back of a van all healed up.” 

“Not exactly a strong finish,” Stiles said. 

“What, were you expecting an epic battle? Last minute heroics in the nick of time?” Isaac said dryly. “I’ve already said too much about too much bad shit. Someone else go.” 

“You don’t wanna like, process or something?” Scott asked. 

“What exactly does that entail, Scott?” Isaac asked sarcastically. 

“I… I dunno. It’s… none of its fair. And I know nothing I can say will make it fair, but… I’m sorry,” Scott shrugged. 

“Okay. You shouldn’t be, but okay,” Isaac looked Scott over, trying to read something more from his expression. “You almost got shot in the head a few days ago. Do you want to talk about that?” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t shot,” Scott tried halfheartedly. Lydia gave him a look. “Okay, I just… I haven’t really thought about it. Or I’ve been trying not to at least.” 

“Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring this stuff,” Isaac pointed out. 

“There’s always stuff I need to do at the time. There isn’t _time_ to not ignore it…” Scott said flatly. 

“We have time now,” Lydia said. 

“Scott, you… you gouged your own eyes out. You _died._ And that’s just the stuff I know about. Aren’t you… aren’t you tired?” Isaac asked. 

“I… I don’t know what I am,” Scott shrugged, not looking at any of them. “I guess I just… keep moving.” 

“You compartmentalize,” Isaac offered. “But that’s supposed to be temporary. You compartmentalize so you can process later. Trust me, I know.” 

“What do I unpack first?” Scott sighed, slouching back against the cabinets. 

“Pick somewhere to start,” Isaac folded his arms over his chest. 

Scott nodded, hands fiddling in his lap. He chose to start at the beginning. “We’ve… we’ve never talked about Peter. Have we?” Scott looked to Lydia. 

“No, we haven’t,” Lydia seemed to understand what Scott was referring to. Isaac and Stiles both were aware that this wasn’t meant for them. They stayed quiet. 

“I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you about all of this sooner. Even after that… We kept you in the dark. That’s part of why you got hurt,” Scott said. 

“Well, I got hurt largely because I was trying to find Jackson and Peter was evil, so. Don’t take too much credit,” Lydia sighed, brushing her hair back. “I do wish you’d told me sooner, but I feel like you all paid the price because you all lying to me led to me drugging you all with wolfsbane and… well, and bringing Peter back.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“You know, neither of us wanted this,” Lydia glanced to Isaac, the only consenting supernatural among them. Among _all_ of them, really. The rest of the pack were either born as they were or forced into it. Maybe some more distant connections like Jackson, but Isaac’s pack, some of the few who _chose_ this life were dead and gone. Lydia continued. “And sometimes I hate that Peter is still walking around, without any consequences.” 

“I mean, we did kill him again,” Scott offered, trying to force some lightness into his tone. “But I know what you mean… it’s the same with Theo,” Scott glanced to Isaac, “with Jackson and Ethan… we either forgive them or let go of it because there isn’t really a point in doing anything else.” 

“Jackson?” Lydia’s perfect eyebrows furrowed. She looked between Isaac and Scott. “Oh… we talked about this. Years ago,” she nodded at Isaac. “I couldn’t expect you to forgive him, but… thanks for letting go of that, I guess.” 

“...Am I missing something?” Stiles butted in. “This isn’t about Jackson being a lizard, is it?” 

“No, uh. He was… He was a shitty neighbor,” Isaac felt a little unsure being so critical of him now with Lydia in present company. Now that he knew Jackson had kept in touch, something he had neglected, he felt like the worse off member of the pack. 

“Don’t start being polite _now_, Isaac,” Lydia said rather pompously. “Jackson lived across the street from Isaac. And he never said anything–” 

“Until my dad asked him directly, okay, I follow now,” Stiles nodded along. 

“You knew about what your dad asked Jackson?” Isaac asked sharply. 

“I know _everything_ my dad knows. Well, not that he knows that,” Stiles sounded far too proud. 

“That was _private,_” Isaac muttered. “Either way. I’m not gonna hold it against him or whatever. He was a kid and selfish and it sounds like he’s… not that anymore.” 

“Really?” Scott seemed surprised by this development. 

“Can we stop talking about me?” Isaac asked. “You two were talking about… about Peter. You don’t have to continue, but just– something besides me and my problems.” 

“Yeah, why not,” Lydia sighed. “I don’t think I ever told you guys what exactly happened with Peter.” 

Stiles looked puzzled. “What… happened? I saw. I was _there,_ you were on the ground, on the lacrosse field, and–” 

“Oh, the bite? I hardly remember that,” Lydia shrugged him off. “I mean when he came _back._” 

“Oh,” Stiles shrank back. “Yeah. You haven’t told us about that…” 

“I started seeing him everywhere… And at first I thought, PTSD, you know? I knew basically nothing about _everything_, so, what else could it be? It…” Lydia shivered. “It wasn’t PTSD. He got in my head… He was _in_ my head… like– like I was possessed or haunted or something…” Lydia paused, rubbing her temples as the very thought gave her a headache. “There was… there was this _boy._ He first talked to me outside guidance. I tried to shrug him off but he was… he was charming. And confident and… new, I guess.” 

“And… this is relevant?” Isaac asked carefully. 

Lydia nodded. She wasn’t looking at any of them. She remained fixated on the dusty wooden floors, not really seeing it. “I’m not going to keep you in suspense. It turns out that was Peter or the ghost of Peter or whatever, from his high school days. He kissed me and then it was like all of the illusion fell away and it was horrible, everything was rotten–” 

“Hold up, Lydia, what do you mean?” Stiles stopped her. 

“What?” 

“_Who_ kissed you?” 

“Peter? Or I guess not, the hallucination of young-Peter or whatever–” 

“_What?_” Scott gaped. 

“Are you serious? And– And you guys still fucking put up with him?” To say Isaac was disgusted was an understatement. 

“They didn’t know. I never wanted to talk about it,” Lydia sighed, resigned as if she had expected this outburst. 

Stiles was on his feet, pacing the kitchen, hands balled into fists at his side. “I’ll kill him. I’m gonna fucking _kill_ him–” 

Scott made no move to talk him down, “Lydia… I wish you’d said something sooner. He– He can’t be allowed back here.” 

Stiles just kept going like he wasn’t even hearing them. “–I’m gonna skin him. Make a fucking werewolf coat, yeah that’s it, only after I bash his stupid head in with my bat–“ 

“What happened to letting things go, Scott? Even if we can’t forgive there’s nothing we can do about it, right?” Lydia was almost mocking. 

“No– No, this is _different._ This isn’t– This isn’t even supernatural stuff, this is a grown man who kissed you when you were sixteen. He should be in _prison_,” Scott’s tone remained steady but his jaw was tense. 

Stiles, continuing on, “–no that’s too easy. I should tell Derek. He’ll be on board especially ‘cause of Kate–“ 

“Thank you for explaining that to me, Scott. I didn’t realize,” Lydia said with cold sarcasm. “Both of you need to sit down and let me talk. I’m glad you’re pissed, but you two don’t get to play hero and make these choices for me.” 

Stiles forced himself to settle, Scott stopped looking at her with those puppy eyes, and Isaac felt like he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t Malia or someone like that be here for Lydia? Not the guy who showed up out of nowhere to unload his problems on them? Lydia seemed to find no problem with it, so Isaac shut up and listened. 

“The hallucinations, visions, nightmares, whatever– they didn’t stop. They got worse. I almost prefer when it was just him playing pretend or trying to get me to like him or whatever his game was there, because after that I kept on seeing dead things. Rot and bugs and _dirt_,” Lydia shuddered. “If he was trying to inspire empathy he was doing a shit job of it.” She paused, but no one spoke. She had asked them to listen and they would. “I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Who would believe me, right? This nightmare… you’re not supposed to remember dreams. Not like that. It was the lacrosse field, but there were all these people shouting at me and then Peter was on top of me and I just remember trying to crawl away and I was screaming and I knew he was going to tear me open and I just _couldn’t get away_…” Lydia inhaled deeply, like she’d forgotten how to breathe. “And it didn’t end when I woke up either. I remember I could barely breathe, I was crying, and he was still _beside_ me, I woke up and he was laying in bed next to me. And he just kept following. He said– well, he _implied_, that if I didn’t help him he was going to kill everyone. And it was like… it was like I buried it. All of it and just pretended I was hosting a normal party… I pushed the punch on everyone and pretended that it wasn’t… that it wasn’t because of _that._ It was like I was in survival mode or something, all I could think about was the next step to getting Peter _out_ of my head…” 

“You know we don’t blame you for that,” Scott finally spoke quietly. 

“I wouldn’t care if you did. I _know_ it wasn’t my fault. It was _his_,” she hissed. A pause, Lydia too tired to hold onto that anger. “I talked to Allison about it a little. She went with me, when… when we had to go talk to him. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it without her. But… not gonna lie, Peter in the flesh is _weak._ Even now, hell– _especially_ now, I know I could kill him if I wanted to. He doesn’t scare me. He was a half-dead coward who needed to coerce a teenage girl into attacking his nephew. Maybe that’s why I never… sought revenge or stopped him or something. He’s not worth that. He was a bitter man who lost his family and used that to justify doing horrible things. Attacking teenagers…” She looked to Scott with an uncertain and uncomfortable smile. “It seems he made a habit of that.” Another moment of silence, the three of them waiting for her to continue. “That’s all I’ve got, boys. I don’t really feel like going into more detail than that. Not sober, at least.” 

“God…” Stiles ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “I still wanna kill him.” 

“That was clever, Scott,” Lydia continued somewhat scornfully. “You got me to talk about my issues instead. Your turn. Peter.” 

Scott sighed, “yeah, it wasn’t deliberate, but I did put it off a little more, huh?” 

When Scott made no move to continue, Isaac spoke up. “It was different for you. To how it was for me. I _chose_ this and I knew what I was getting into. You… you were just attacked in the woods.” 

Scott nodded, staring at the floor just as Lydia and Isaac had. There was something about it, about _talking_ about things like this, that made eye contact impossible. 

“It was so strange. I almost thought I dreamed it up. Even when you’re human, it was like I could sense his presence. In the woods, the animals were all stirred up and I was scared in a way I’d never been before in my life. The _wrongness_ of it, of _him_, it took over. Something worse than adrenaline, it was like I knew adrenaline wouldn’t be able to save me. Not to say I knew _anything_ at that point, but it was definitely a feeling.” Scott winced, a hand going to his side. “And it _hurt._ Hurt in a way I’d never experienced before… I screamed and then I just stared at it, at _teeth_ in my side… I can’t believe I actually convinced myself I was bit by a regular wolf. It was just… this massive _blur_, and… and red eyes.” 

Scott ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. There was a weight that grew more apparent now, whatever walls Scott had worked so hard to keep up were finally coming away. 

“The days– the _weeks_ that followed. I wasn’t in control. I woke up in the woods one time, didn’t have a shirt or my shoes, didn’t remember how I’d gotten there. That’s fucking _terrifying._ Stiles… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you that first month,” Scott looked to his best friend. 

“I wasn’t exactly nice to you all the time, Scotty. Your first full moon?” Stiles cringed. “I, uh. I could’ve handled that better.” 

“You made up for it,” Scott shrugged. “Even if you were a dick sometimes, you were the only one I had for that stuff. You were just trying to keep me safe.” 

“Yeah… and being a dick all the while,” Stiles shrugged. 

“You were sixteen,” Scott remained firm. “And… I _did_ kiss the girl you liked,” he smiled sheepishly at Lydia. 

“Um. No, I’m pretty sure she kissed you,” Lydia teased. 

“Sometimes I forget how much I missed _before_ I came into the picture,” Isaac shook his head. “I mean, sure I was busy keeping myself alive from non-supernatural bullshit, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice you all acting weird sooner, considering how transparent you guys were sometimes.” 

“Oh yeah? Like when?” Stiles frowned. 

“Talking about werewolf stuff _in class_ for one?” Isaac raised an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. 

“No one was gonna think we were talking about real life…” Stiles muttered. 

“Now they probably would,” Lydia nodded. 

“Scott,” Isaac grew more serious, unsure of how to go about this. How the hell had anyone talked to him about his issues? Maybe he should just treat it like therapy, say whatever he thought Bhatt would have said to him. “You’re avoiding confronting real problems. You’re talking about issues from the past because it’s easier than unpacking what’s just happened.” An okay start. “So how about you talk about how many times you’ve almost died in the past few months?” Okay. That was less subtle. 

Scott sighed. “I still don’t think I can do it,” Scott didn’t seem to mind Isaac’s bluntness, as he wasn’t wrong. “It’s like I’m still kinda in fight or flight mode or something. Every time that almost-panic creeps in, I shut it down by reminding myself, yeah, okay but I _didn’t_ die.” 

“A close call isn’t exactly encouraging,” Stiles pointed out. 

“I _know_,” Scott sighed. “But what’s the alternative here? Running away? Giving up? You know that’s not an option for me. For any of us. Either we do the right thing or… or... or nothing. I literally can’t imagine an alternative. So I’m gonna keep surviving. I know you’re trying to help me, Isaac, but it’s not like the stuff with your dad or even Russia or anything, this isn’t stuff from the past coming to hurt me, this is real and it’s _now_ and it’s not going to be over any time soon. How can I process the number of times I’ve almost died when it could happen again tomorrow? To _any_ of us?” He looked more closely at his friends, both worried and daring them to disagree. “Yeah, I’ve made one hell of a target out of myself, but this isn’t just a _me_ problem. The other night, do you all think after that guy shot me in the head he was just going to let the rest of you go? Liam and Malia would’ve gone next. Lydia, despite appearances you’re _still_ not human enough for them, and I think Monroe would know better than to let Stiles live after she killed the rest of us. I’d go down first, but I wouldn’t be the only one. We’ve all accepted that the best we can, right?” 

Isaac had no counter to offer. Without even a thought or ounce of consideration, Isaac took Scott’s hand. Scott looked down, but didn’t say anything. He just squeezed back. 

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, staring at the floor. That was the first indication that he was ready to overshare. In his usual spastic and anxious fashion, he shifted on the floor, sitting up before leaning back again, his hands fiddling rapidly in his lap. “Okay. Okay– I’m gonna talk about something. I’m gonna tell you all something and it's something I’ve avoided talking about okay?” He looked to each of them in turn intently, eyes wide. “Okay? Here it goes: I killed someone.” 

Isaac couldn’t believe he was the only one who laughed. It came out against his bidding, quiet and sharp, but his first thought had been this _had_ to be a joke. Stiles looked actually hurt, not just offended in his usual way, but _hurt._

“...you’re not kidding. Are you?” Isaac asked softly. “_Fuck_, I’m so sorry, I just thought…” Maybe Stiles’ threats that he was going to kill Peter weren’t so hypothetical, not that Isaac could blame him. 

“Nah,” Stiles coughed, again not looking at them. “I probably would’ve thought the same. But yeah,” another sharp cough, a sniff, but no tears so far. “I, uh. I… Scott knew already,” Stiles nodded. “Well, he knew first. Well, no, I guess, _Theo_ knew first… and Lydia knew too. I told you about it a while back now, huh?” Stiles was more talking around it than about it, but at least he was talking. Isaac never imagined he would think that, to be glad that Stiles was _talking._

“We… we sort of talked about it. You told me because you wanted me to know, but not much more than that,” Lydia probed gently. 

“And… And I still hate the way I found out. It made me approach things all wrong,” Scott offered as he saw Stiles struggling. 

“What were you supposed to think?” Stiles muttered, “Theo told you I fucking _killed_ someone and I confirmed it. If you _hadn’t_ flipped out I would be worried. I know– I know I was pissed off at the time and I fought you about it, I know I _kept_ it from you and I was– I was cold and I avoided you and– and–” 

“–And you were scared,” Scott interjected, tone soft and imploring, but not pressuring. “I won’t take back how I reacted, I guess, if that makes any sense. I… It scared me too. But I understand now and I wish I’d known enough to listen then. And I’m sorry for that, even if it wasn’t something we could control.” 

“He was gonna kill me,” Stiles said hoarsely, eyes locked on the ground, ripping at loose threads in his shirt. “I know things have tried to kill us before. I know we killed some things. Berserkers or the Oni or whatever else… but they weren’t _people_. M-Maybe we’ve killed people too. Our problems have a lot of collateral. A lot that we don’t see. But _this?_” Stiles shut his eyes tightly, hands balled into fists so his knuckles turned white. “I pulled the pin,” he murmured. “I pulled a pin because he was right behind me and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight him off and I thought… I thought if the metal fell on him it might push him back enough for me to get away but–” Stiles's voice shook so badly now. He inhaled shakily. “But it got too _quiet_ after that. Fucking immediately. And I looked down, and…” Stiles buried his head in his heads, rubbing his face agitatedly. “And I can’t bring myself to regret it,” Stiles steadied himself. “Isn’t that fucked up? I… I _killed_ someone… I regret a lot of shit, but not that. Because I know– I _know_ he was gonna kill me. But… I don’t like that I think that makes it right. I don’t even know if I _do_ think that makes it right or if this is just something I convinced myself of ‘cause it was easier than like, confronting the fact that I still feel guilty. How can I– How can I not regret it and still feel guilty at the same time?” Stiles finally looked up, staring at Scott, looking to his brother for answers. Answers that Scott didn’t have. Too much silence, Scott unsure and unable to piece together something to say, Stiles still unsteady and fidgety and desperate. 

“If I’d had the chance to kill my dad, I would’ve,” Isaac spoke up first, glancing to Lydia in the hopes that she would have something a little more comforting to say. She gave no such indication. “I know I would have if I hadn’t been so fucking scared. Of getting caught or failing or whatever I dunno… but I would have done it. And I still don’t think that it would’ve been wrong. Right?” Isaac looked to Stiles. 

Stiles shifted uncomfortably, but it was a discomfort that distracted from the moral quandaries that still bothered him. “That’s… that’s different, that wasn’t a one-time thing, that makes _sense._ It would’ve been, like, a matter of survival. What your dad did was–” 

“Stiles, what I’m talking about is premeditated. You’re telling me that if I’d put rat poison in my dad’s food or hit him over the head with a pan or choked him out with his own belt or chains or whatever– all things I’d considered, by the way– that that would’ve been okay. I’m not disagreeing. I know could justify that.” Isaac couldn’t believe how calm he sounded, how certain he was after so much uncertainty. “You made a split-second decision to defend yourself, and the consequences were worse than you’d planned. That’s not evil. Hell, I don’t even think that’s murder. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t make you feel guilty. That doesn’t mean you should be able to just get over it, but you’re not a bad person. I– apparently, according to whatever magic werewolf logic decides eye color– didn’t kill the people in the bunker. I gave them poison. I am, by all definitions, the _reason_ that they’re dead. And I can’t let go of that even though it was… it was a choice I gave them and the best one I could make in that situation,” Isaac sighed, feeling like his own words hit him in the face. He didn’t think he was just saying them for Stiles’ sake. He _believed_ them. As Scott had told him days before, he had done the best he could. “You did the best you could.” 

All four of them were startled by the oven timer going off, Isaac having totally forgotten he had started this night out baking. Maybe this was an easier way to end their impromptu therapy session. With cookies. It seemed like a simple thing, a way for them to pretend to be normal for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter speaks for itself and doesn't need an a/n, but just have to say I haven't watched the show in a long time, so if any referenced canon is wrong, just ignore it (or tell me so I can fix it pls)  
This was a long one. A lot to unpack for sure. Hope you liked it. Hope you're doing good.


	33. Chapter 33

The conversation, if whatever this was could be counted as a mere conversation, ended itself. Stiles took more than a few cookies, “uh. For my dad.” And as Lydia and Stiles got ready to leave, he paused. “You know when you told me they tortured you for days…” he inhaled through his teeth, “I could not have guessed how bad it actually was.” Not exactly a loving thank you for what Isaac had said, but Isaac understood what Stiles meant.

Lydia hugged both of them, no words needed. Then Isaac and Scott were alone. 

“What’d you put in these?” Scott asked. “They’re not just chocolate chip.” 

“Uh. Coffee grounds.” 

“_Coffee?_ We’ll never sleep,” Scott scoffed. 

“Does caffeine _work_ on werewolves?” Isaac was doubtful. 

“I…” Scott frowned, staring at the cookies like they would give him answers. “I don’t know. _How_ can I not know that? I’ve been a werewolf for like five or six years now and I’m not really sure. I still drink coffee and I _think_ that wakes me up but… maybe it’s just a habit. I don’t know.” 

“Didn’t realize this would stress you out so much,” Isaac raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t give me that look you don’t know either.” Scott bumped into his shoulder lightly. 

“Yeah but I’m not losing sleep over it.” Isaac responded in turn. 

A pause, the silence more pronounced since Lydia and Stiles had left. “So. Weird night,” Scott eventually spoke, leaning back against the counter. 

“We’ve had weirder.” Isaac wasn’t sure if Scott was saying this because he expected the conversation to continue. Isaac paused in washing the cooking sheet he had used, turning around. It had to be well after midnight by now. 

“I wasn’t trying to make you talk about all that, you know. I’m sorry if I pushed you, or…” Scott shrugged, scuffing his feet on the floor. 

“Trust me, Scott, if I really hadn’t wanted to talk about it I just would’ve told you to fuck off,” Isaac smirked. 

Scott laughed, “is that so?” A pause, Scott being the one to fall into gloom first. “The past year… I guess past few years too, have been hard… Still, I didn’t expect...” 

“What?” Isaac asked as the silence went on. 

Scott didn’t really looked _sad_ exactly, more tired than anything. “I don’t know. I guess I’d hoped that when you left Beacon Hills, you could’ve gotten away from all that. If things aren’t better away from here… do we even have chance?” 

“Come on. Don’t get nihilistic on me. That’s my job. You’re supposed to be blindly optimistic,” Isaac could only respond with teasing. He hated that Scott might be right. “And I sought out all this bad shit. If I had wanted to, I could’ve stayed in Paris. I could’ve stopped going on hunts. Not to say the whole thing with the Argents wanting to kill me for a little while was _avoidable_, exactly, but I could’ve avoided a lot of hurt by… staying home and staying quiet.” 

“Why didn’t you, then?” 

Isaac couldn’t put together a proper answer to that. “You wanna hear something crazy?” 

“...What?” 

“Even in Russia when I was being tortured, it wasn’t as bad as living with my dad.” 

“_Really?_” Scott looked utterly disbelieving. 

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded, looking Scott in the eye with a certainty that surprised himself as well. “Because at least I knew I’d done nothing wrong. I could… make peace with the possible outcomes, I guess. But mostly because I was in control of myself. As much as I could be in something like that, at least. Before I left for Russia, I was the most stable I had ever been. I was happy and certain and _good._ Russia… it wore me down. But it didn’t take that away.” 

Rather than looking baffled or even worried, Scott seemed to have a certain understanding. “There was this middle ground, after Monroe first showed up and the whole gouging my eyes out thing, where I had that sense of peace. I think. It wasn’t easy, but we were rescuing people more than we were fighting. We were finding lost omegas, kids that were just like us once.” Scott still looked tired, but something about him seemed so defiant. Isaac looked at him, and could only think he must be unstoppable. Despite this, Isaac knew better. He only wished Scott knew he deserved a life without a target on his back. “I think it’s just like you said. I’m… worn down. The fighting hasn’t stopped, but I’m not stopping either.” 

“You don’t have to save everyone, Scott.” 

Scott remained unwavering, a steadiness born from being pushed too far for too long. “But yeah I _do._” 

Isaac grew so quiet, he spoke despite knowing it was a lost cause. “But you _can’t_.” 

“Do you want to know why I _gouged my own eyes out?_ Do you think I did it because I had a choice? I did it because I _had_ to save everyone. And you know what? I _did._ I saved as many people as I could that day and I’m not gonna stop,” Scott almost seemed angry. Isaac knew better.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“I didn’t think you would.” Quiet. Scott not continuing the conversation, Isaac unsure of how to press on. “But are you ever gonna give yourself a break?” 

“From _what?_” Scott was rarely so bitter. “This isn’t a _job_, Isaac. It’s how we’re keeping alive. These hunters wouldn't stop hunting us if we stopped interfering, so we can at least fight back.” 

_ _ “Okay.” _ _

_ _ “...okay? Okay what?” _ _

_ _ “Just… okay. Not like anything I can say will change anything. And it isn’t anything that hasn’t been said before,” Isaac shrugged. He felt tired. “You never asked for any of this.” _ _

_ _ “And you did?” _ _

_ _ “Yeah, actually. I did,” Isaac said dryly. “Say what you will about Derek’s alphaing abilities, he gave us a choice. He told us about the hunters and trust me, he didn’t sugarcoat it. You… you never got a say.” _ _

_ _ “Yeah. I didn’t. So?” _ _

_ _ “I dunno. I’m sorry, I guess.” _ _

_ _ Scott smiled, almost joking, “the bite is a gift.” He sighed, “I’ve said that too much…” _ _

_ _ “It is. Maybe it wasn’t for you, but it was for me. I’m sure it was for others too. And…” Isaac shook his head, cringing. _ _

_ _ “What?” _ _

_ _ “It’s the most disgustingly cheesy thing I’ve ever thought.” _ _

_ _ Scott gave him a crooked grin. “Try me.” _ _

_ _ Isaac scoffed, refusing to look Scott in the eye. “You… you being who you are. And doing what you do. That’s a gift. For a lot of people.” Another pause. “Including me.” _ _

_ _ Scott seemed to be holding back a smile, which crept up anyway. He looked at the floor, cheeks just a shade darker. “Okay. Yeah. That’s pretty cheesy.” Scott glanced up, meeting Isaac’s eyes for just a moment before looking away again. “You know, I’ve been thinking–” _ _

_ _ A blinding flash of light, the sound of glass shattering, and then heat. Isaac’s first instinct was to tackle Scott to the floor, but Scott was faster, already dragging him down. There was fire in the living room, the window shattered, the only reason they were functional is that the flashbangs went off out there too. There was more than fire flooding the house now, thick smoke which burned their skin and choked the air in their lungs. Isaac could smell the wolfsbane through the pain. _ _

_ _ “C-Come on. I’ll get mom and Chris, you cover for us,” Scott managed to speak, both of them fighting to breathe, and grabbed onto the scruff of Isaac’s shirt, getting them both stumbling for the stairs. Isaac was glad he still had his gun on him, as they approached the stairs someone was ramming against the front door. Isaac fired two shots into the wood. The sound stopped soon after. Isaac fell back against the stairs, shielding his face as the window into the dining room shattered and another wave of heat hit him. What the hell were they– grenades? Molotov cocktails? Isaac didn’t have time to find out, he quickly followed Scott upstairs, coughing and sputtering all the while. _ _

_ _ “Scott! What’s the plan?” He hoarsely shouted down the hall, still watching down the steps for someone else to try and enter. The fire was spreading. They needed to get out of here, and fast. _ _

_ _ “Windows!” Scott shouted back. Melissa and Chris, in their pajamas but armed to the teeth, did not look enthused by the prospect. Scott opened a window into the backyard, smashing through the screen. Isaac, still at the top of the stairs, couldn’t see down anymore, his eyes stinging from smoke. Isaac went to join them. _ _

_ _ “I go last,” Scott nodded to Isaac. _ _

_ _ “Guess I’ll go first,” Isaac muttered. The fall wasn’t bad, enough roof sloping outside of Melissa’s window that the drop wasn’t more than eight feet. _ _

_ _ Melissa soon followed, landing quite steadily and without any broken bones. A victory. Chris followed, hitting the ground with practiced skill, and Scott soon joined. _ _

_ _ “Head for my car. It’s down the block,” Isaac was quick to start moving, keys in one hand, gun in the other. The four of them sprinted through the neighbor’s yard, cutting through the dark, Isaac in the lead, Scott just behind him, and Melissa and Chris flanking them. _ _

_ _ “They’re gonna spot us,” Isaac said as he saw his car between the houses. _ _

_ _ “Yep,” Scott replied shortly. _ _

_ _ “They’re gonna start shooting.” _ _

_ _ “Yep.” _ _

_ _ With some unspoken agreement, Scott covered his mother’s right side and Isaac did the same for Chris. They would take any incoming fire first. _ _

_ _ The hunters currently assaulting the McCall house didn’t notice their targets getting away until they were halfway to the car. That didn’t stop them from firing. Scott dropped with a yelp, a bullet in his leg. _ _

_ _ “Shit–” Isaac grabbed onto Scott’s arm, hauling him into the passenger’s side before leaping over the hood, a bullet hitting close enough to graze his arm. The enemy fire was held back by Chris covering long enough for Isaac to get in the car. Isaac fumbled with the keys for a second too long, a hole cut cleanly through the windshield, a bullet embedding in the middle seat between Chris and Melissa. _ _

_ _ “This is a fucking rental,” Isaac spoke through gritted teeth. By then he had floored it, turning around sharply, hitting a mailbox, and speeding through a residential neighborhood at dangerous speeds. “So, what the hell was that?” He glanced at his rearview mirror, but the street remained empty behind him. _ _

_ _ “An assassination attempt?” Chris sighed, also watching their backs, gun poised to shoot at any oncoming cars. _ _

_ _ “Scott? Where am I going?” Isaac asked, glancing to his right. Scott was clutching his leg as blood seeped between his hands, inhaling through gritted teeth. _ _

_ _ “Shit– Monroe knows where the rest of the pack live too. Their addresses are on their school files,” Scott scrambled for his phone. _ _

_ _ “Why the hell would she have those?” _ _

_ _ “She was our guidance counselor.” _ _

"_Really?_" 

_ _ “Head downtown– go to Derek’s,” Scott told him, calling the Stilinski household. “Mom, I’ve got Stiles–” _ _

_ _ “On it. I’ll get Lydia,” she took Isaac’s phone, which he passed back to her, her own phone currently left behind in a burning house. “After that– I can call Malia?” _ _

_ _ “Yeah. I’ll get Liam and Mason then too, just to be safe,” Scott nodded. _ _

_ _ “After that might wanna call the fire department,” Isaac muttered. _ _

_ _ Isaac had planned on seeing Derek again at some point. He hadn’t expected it to be in desperate disarray in the middle of the night. Maybe he should’ve known better. Scott was still bleeding, the bullet stemming most of it. Isaac helped him to the elevator, Melissa taking his other side. _ _

_ _ The loft. Isaac hadn’t been here in a long time. _ _

_ _ Isaac banged on the towering metal door, when it slid open he was met with surprise and a gun. _ _

“Does… does _everyone_ use guns now?” Isaac sighed. Still, Derek looked good, disheveled and grumpy, but that’s how he always looked. He was as handsome as ever, same jawline, same scruff. Isaac swore his eyebrows were even more intense than he remembered. Isaac was perhaps even more disconcerted that his initial assessment that Simon looked oddly like Derek was true. 

_ _ Derek was rarely so thrown off, he lowered his gun and stepped back. “Isaac? Scott– What’re you–” _ _

_ _ “We’ll explain in a minute. First we’ve got to take care of Scott,” Isaac was already crossing the threshold. The loft wasn’t any cozier than when Isaac had first lived here, sparsely furnished, bare walls, towering ceilings. _ _

_ _ Derek, holding back his questions, cleared off the table. Scott bit his lip as his leg shifted painfully getting onto the table. “Just– Just get it out. Get it over with.” _ _

_ _ Isaac hadn’t been squeamish for a long time. Digging out a bullet was far too easy a task, not to say the experience was pleasant, Scott digging his claws into the table, Isaac wincing as he felt bone, but it was soon over with. Derek helped take care of the poison. _ _

_ _ “Now do you want to tell me what you’re doing at my place at three in the morning?” Derek folded his arms over his chest. “What the hell happened?” _ _

_ _ “Monroe bombed the house,” Scott took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. “And there’s more coming. She could find anyone who went to the highschool while she worked there.” _ _

_ _ “Great…” Derek muttered. “No clue where I’m going to put you all.” _ _

_ _ “I don’t think there’ll be much time for sleeping tonight anyway, Derek,” Chris frowned, looking severe. “This was a risk. Monroe doesn’t take risks unless they’re well calculated. I don’t know what we’re really up against here.” _ _

_ _ “And you got in touch with Stiles and Lydia?” Derek asked. _ _

_ _ “Yeah. They’re both okay. They’re coming here now. I’m hoping Sheriff Stilinski might be able to do something,” Scott sighed. “Doubtful, but having some help from the real world would’ve been nice.” _ _

_ _ Isaac frowned, staring at Scott’s bloody leg. He had healed, but that wasn’t what worried him. “They were aiming low. At least at first. Like they wanted to injure us, not kill us.” _ _

_ _ “I had the same thought,” Chris pressed into his temples, looking tired. “All of my intel is at the house… a decent portion of my weapons… I can access more, of course, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t inconvenient.” _ _

_ _ “They aimed to kill too,” Scott pointed out. “They tried to hit us in the car. And burning down the house wasn’t meant to be a warning.” _ _

_ _ “What about… what about that guy covering his scent? In the woods. We couldn’t smell him coming. That’s smart. I can’t tell if they’re hunting you or waging war,” Isaac noted. Everything about this unsettled him. It seemed this wasn’t typical for the pack either, which worried him more. Changing strategies usually yielded more damage. _ _

_ _ “Both, usually,” Scott muttered. “Derek, there’s no way for Monroe to find out where you live, right?” _ _

_ _ “I still own the building, but it’s under a different name now. I wouldn’t say it’s impossible, but if she manages to find me I’ll be very surprised. After the alpha pack… well. Let’s just say that inspired me to be a bit quieter about my address,” Derek still looked to the door intently, clearly not trusting his own precautions. _ _

_ _ “Did Stiles see anything at his house? Lydia didn’t,” Melissa asked. It seemed she was resisting the urge to fuss over Scott despite him being fully healed. _ _

_ _ “Nothing, but they got out of there immediately,” Scott said. “Either she doesn’t have as many people as we think she does, or she wants me out of the way first. I really thought she’d go after all of us.” _ _

_ _ “But everyone said they didn’t see anything?” Derek frowned. _ _

_ _ “Nothing,” Scott shrugged. “Monroe is usually not so hard to pin down, and she hasn’t been this direct since we first pushed her out of Beacon Hills.” _ _

_ _ “Her movements across the US have slowed down. They’ve stopped trying to contact the Calaveras. We didn’t know what to think,” Chris nodded to Derek. _ _

_ _ “Scott, what you said about Monroe coming back to Beacon Hills for you and the pack. I don’t think you’re wrong,” Derek looked to him. _ _

_ _ “The problem is, we don’t know how far she’ll go now that she’s here,” Scott looked exhausted, but he was quite good at putting on a brave face despite that. _ _

_ _ “I think we know. She’ll do what it takes until you’re dead on the floor,” Derek, forever the optimist. _ _

_ _ The elevator was audible to the werewolves present, two of whom had guns at the ready. _ _

_ _ “Whoa, whoa,” Stiles jumped, his hands in the air, his father in toe. “Calm down, werewolf 5-O.” _ _

_ _ “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?” The sheriff stared at each of them with weighted worry. _ _

_ _ “Someone bombed our house, that’s why we warned you,” Melissa put a hand on her friend’s arm, trying to calm him. Difficult considering their circumstances. “We thought Monroe might come for you all next.” _ _

_ _ The sheriff sighed, a hand going through his shortly cropped hair, “great… I should’ve known Stiles being home for the summer would be… exciting.” _ _

_ _ “You mean you’re not having fun, dad?” Stiles teased weakly. _ _

_ _ The sheriff gave him a look, half fond, half exasperated. He looked to Isaac, unsurprised to see him there. “It’s been a while, Isaac. How are you?” The sheriff seemed to regret his choice in phrasing. “Er. How are you other than the obvious?” _ _

_ _ “Uh. Could be worse,” Isaac nodded. He did not understand smalltalk. “And, you? Other than the whole being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night?” _ _

_ _ The sheriff shrugged, “understaffed because last year half of my deputies joined a cult, the world makes no sense, and my son keeps on almost getting murdered. Not great.” _ _

_ _ “So, the Beacon Hills usual,” Isaac sighed. _ _

_ _ Lydia was the next of the pack to arrive, somehow looking perfectly put together despite having woken up not long before. _ _

_ _ “Liam has Mason. Mason’s parents are still out of town like my mom and Liam convinced his dad to stay in a motel. Malia is on her way,” Lydia explained, looking at Scott’s bloody leg with wide eyes. “How are we holding up?” _ _

_ _ “What about…” Isaac tried to remember his name. “Uh. Tate? Malia’s dad? Is he safe?” _ _

_ _ “Yeah, he’s fine. He and Malia moved out of their old house after Malia graduated so Monroe wouldn’t have her address,” Lydia waved him off. “What happened? What happened to Scott?” _ _

_ _ “Got shot. It wasn’t bad,” Scott shrugged. _ _

_ _ “That should not be a true statement,” Stiles sighed. “So, what’s the plan, Scotty? What’re we supposed to do?” _ _

Scott was struggling. The pack gave him time. “I… I don’t think there’s anything we _can_ do tonight, I think we should just rest while we can and figure out in the morning.” 

“Rest _where?_” Derek scoffed. 

“I didn’t even have a bed when I lived here,” Isaac pointed out. He glanced to Derek, part of him felt like he should say _no offense._ He didn’t. 

_ _ “I don’t think spreading out would be a good idea. We need to stick together until we have a plan,” Scott said. _ _

_ _ “I can try and get us hotel rooms?” Isaac offered. “I don’t know if it’ll be fancy this last minute, but it’ll be safe.” _ _

_ _ “And how are you planning on doing that?” The sheriff raised an eyebrow at him, clearly his first thoughts being less than legal means. _ _

Isaac rolled his eyes, “Argent money,” eyes went to Chris with more surprise. “_Argent_ Argent money. This counts as an expense for the hunt– I mean, the mission. Or whatever.” 

_ _ “Dude, do you think we could work like, a fancy dinner or room service as an ‘expense for the mission’?” Stiles nudged him comraderally. _ _

_ _ “Cool, so I’ll get you guys hotel rooms and Stiles can stay with Derek–” _ _

_ _ “What, no!” Stiles pouted just as Derek said, “not happening.” _ _

The elevator came up again and the chatter of Mason and Liam met them. It was past three in the morning, _how_ were they this awake? 

_ _ “Okay, but if we do the same to them–” _ _

“They don’t have houses! We can’t burn down houses they _don’t have_–” 

_ _ “Oh my god both of you just, sh!” Stiles groaned dramatically. Liam moved to speak. “No. Shush. Not the time. You are here to be sure you’re not dead. Not to plan arson.” _ _

_ _ “I wasn’t gonna actually do it…” Liam muttered. _ _

“Okay. Is it just Malia left?” Isaac asked. A nod from Scott. Isaac did a headcount. Isaac had struggled, years ago now, to adjust to a life where money was no object, the switch from living a life of deprivation to one of charity to one of wealth had eventually become normal to him, but some older part of himself still winced. “I’ll call Jeanie. They need to know what’s going on anyway,” he sighed. 

_ _ Jeanie was quick to go from annoyed to concerned, Isaac, having explained their current housing crisis, agreed to get it sorted for him. The rest of the pack, Malia now included, were making little progress in conversation. No one really knew what was going on. _ _

_ _ “Sheriff Stilinski, can’t you like, put out an APB on Monroe or something?” Mason asked. _ _

_ _ “Not legally, no. And even if I did, I doubt she would be stupid enough to show her face in town,” the sheriff sighed, looking exhausted. As did the rest of them. _ _

_ _ “If we can’t find her, what the hell are we supposed to do?” Stiles grew more irritable. “Wait around for another attempt on Scott’s life?” _ _

_ _ “I mean, that would be kind of practical. It’ll get us access to some of Monroe’s people,” Malia pointed out, warranting several scolding looks from the rest of the pack, particularly Melissa. “Just saying…” _ _

_ _ “We could treat this like a police investigation,” Stiles looked to his father. “Tomorrow, we investigate the crime scene.” _ _

_ _ “We need the sheriff in the office tomorrow,” Chris interjected. “He’s the best access we have to the usual channels.” _ _

_ _ The Sheriff seemed unenthused by the idea of not being with his son the following day. “Parrish–” _ _

_ _ “Nah,” Stiles sighed. “I think Chris is right. Parrish is your best deputy. You should have him investigating cases, seeing if anything suspicious has happened around abandoned buildings or strange property rentals…” _ _

_ _ “And I’ll sit behind a desk making phonecalls,” the Sheriff sighed, he stared at Stiles, “why do I get the feeling you’re trying to get me out of the way?” _ _

_ _ Stiles looked sheepish, but Scott saved him from replying. _ _

_ _ “Look, we’re not going to be able to accomplish anything tonight. I think the best thing to do is rest while we can, and get to work tomorrow,” Scott looked to each of them with a determined weight in his gaze. Isaac had missed that certainty. _ _

_ _ “We’re waiting on Jeanie, so. Until then we’re crashing here,” Isaac spoke up. _ _

_ _ Derek brooded more intensely at this. _ _

“I think you can cope for a few more hours,” Isaac said dryly. Isaac hadn’t seen Derek in years. His reunion with Chris had been far more cohesive, despite the time he had known and been with both of them being about the same. Derek and Chris seemed to have the same slight emotional unavailability, but perhaps Chris was just old enough to outgrow it and bridge that gap first. Isaac had no idea what to say to Derek after all this time, but it still felt like there should be _something_ said. Derek had been his first alpha, he had gotten him away from his dad. What did that warrant? What kind of _relationship_ was that, particularly with how badly things had ended between them? 

_ _ “Well, I can’t. I am so fucking tired,” Malia stood. “And my house is off the radar, so good luck to you guys.” _ _

_ _ “Mals, really?” Stiles pouted. “You’re just heading out?” _ _

“Scott _said_ he didn’t have any plans tonight, and _I_ don’t need to stay in a hotel,” Malia shrugged. “Really, I think you guys should all move. Staying in one place for that long isn’t smart.” 

_ _ “Mom… we’re gonna have to move,” Scott seemed surprised by this revelation, the full gravity of the situation having not hit him until now. _ _

_ _ “Yeah, kiddo, I think so,” Melissa seemed endeared by Scott’s moment of naivete. Despite all the difficulty they had faced as of late, there was something hopeful about Scott still being surprised by bad news. _ _

_ _ “I’ll help you put together a report for the insurance, Melissa. I’m sure they’ll be doubtful of the arson charge otherwise,” the Sheriff sighed. “Those vultures won’t give you a dime without it.” Isaac couldn’t help but think of Claudia Stilinksi and wonder how badly life insurance screwed them over. There were more evils in the world than the supernatural. _ _

Isaac got a text from Romy with surprising speed, _We got 2 more rooms. People r gonna have to share :(_

_beds?_ He asked. 

_2 in each. Not counting our room so your bed is still there._

_ _ Isaac relayed this information to some grumbling. _ _

_ _ “No, this works,” Scott cut in. “Isaac, I’ll crash with you, Liam and Mason can share a room with Stiles and Lydia, and the parents can have the other one, right?” _ _

_ _ “Could be worse,” Lydia shrugged. _ _

_ _ “Yeah, at least it’s not the Glen Capri,” Isaac winced. _ _

_ _ Scott shuddered. “A good point.” _ _

_ _ “Yeah, so if any of you youngsters complain, I’ll tell you a horror story,” Stiles stared pointedly at Liam and Mason. _ _

_ _ “We weren’t complaining!” Liam seemed offended. _ _

_ _ “Isaac, you’re not footing the bill for us all, tell your friends thank you for reserving rooms for us, but I will pay for a room for Stiles and I,” the Sheriff said firmly. Melissa nodded in agreement. Chris was the only one who seemed unphased by a teenager throwing money around. He knew the Argents better, of course. _ _

_ _ Isaac was amused by their pride. Their need to feel like The Adults was understandable, but Isaac also had no intention of letting Melissa, who had just lost her house, and the sheriff, who had enough stress not counting financial troubles, pay for a hotel room already offered by a family interwoven into a million dollar corporation. _ _

_ _ “It’s not my money, guys. This counts as a business expense in our family,” Isaac nodded to Chris. “I don’t agree with how we get that money, so, you two should at least let it be used to help us out.” _ _

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “you’re fine with the Argents hunting werewolves, you’re _not_ fine with them being businessmen?” 

“Well, no. I spent a lot of energy getting them to _stop_ hunting werewolves without reason. And the business part doesn’t bug me anywhere near as much as the international arms dealing,” Isaac glanced at Chris, “this is blood money. Despite our work for it not to be.” 

_ _ “Well, in more recent years we’ve been trying to concentrate our deals on small private sectors rather than big budget military arms,” Chris offered. “And when it comes to political conflicts, we… we pick sides. Few years ago we sold arms to a local militia fending off oil tycoons. That was our last major political arrangement.” _ _

_ _ “Okay, I get it, iron man,” Stiles rolled his eyes, warranting a look from Chris that left Stiles more antsy than usual. _ _

_ _ Lydia stared at all of them in exhausted contempt. “It is… 4 am. We are talking about the ethics of being international arms dealers. I am tired. If they’ve found us rooms, I am not questioning it.” _ _

_ _ “Lydia is, as always, right. Let’s get out before Derek loses it,” Scott got to his feet. At this, those present started shuffling towards the door, all too tired to talk save Mason and Liam who were bickering wearily. _ _

_ _ “Isaac,” Derek made him pause, a hand touching Isaac’s shoulder sparingly and with careful consideration. _ _

_ _ Isaac tensed against his volition, staring from Derek’s hand back to him. “...yeah?” _ _

Derek seemed frozen, a serious frown taking up his face. That sullen contemplation was just so _Derek_ Isaac wondered how he could have compared him to anyone else. Isaac… Isaac hadn’t had a _crush_ on Derek back then, had he? Following him blindly, bitter and scared and brave for the first time too, that had been _pack_ and nothing more, right? Isaac’s feelings towards Scott complicated things. He didn’t know where the line between romantic love and alpha admiration blurred. Isaac didn’t even want to touch that potential spiral. Not that it mattered now. Derek was neither his alpha nor anything close to a romantic interest. 

_ _ “What is it, Derek?” Isaac pushed, the two of them now alone in the loft. _ _

_ _ “I know you’ve got to go, but…” Derek wasn’t hesitating, not really. He was _careful._ In a way Isaac hadn’t remembered him being before. “I’m glad that you’re back. And I’m glad that you’re okay.” _ _

_ _ “Thanks.” Isaac had no idea what else he should say. _ _

_ _ “Look,” Derek stepped back. “I’ve changed over the past few years and I think you have too, and, well. I want to apologize. For a lot of things that happened back then.” _ _

_ _ “Bygones,” Isaac’s first instinct was to dismiss with a shrug, but he realized that definitely wasn’t what Derek wanted. _ _

_ _ “Okay, fine. Bygones. But I am sorry. And… again, it’s… ridiculously late. But we should talk some time. When things are calmer,” Derek nodded firmly. _ _

Derek was actively inciting an opportunity for the two of them to _talk things out._ Derek saying he had ‘changed’ was an understatement. 

_ _ “Yeah. I’d like that,” Isaac nodded back. It wasn’t like they were going to hug it out or anything, but this understanding was a lot more than what Isaac had expected. “I’ll uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, Derek.” _ _

_ _ Another curt nod. “Drive safe.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! it's been a minute. I've been fighting this chapter all month and somehow managed to finish it in the midst of finals. Hope you all are doing well. Our final plot-heavy arc is now set in motion! But I promise it won't distract from our character moments.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi guys. Been a while. Sorry to keep you guys waiting for so damn long, writer's block and the holidays and other projects and bla bla excuses excuses, the point is I am trying to get back into the swing of this fic. We're so close I am not quitting now!  
Hope this comeback makes up for the wait at least a little <3

It was only a few hours before dawn by the time they actually had all settled in the hotel.

It was a slow process, getting everyone rooms from a very confused clerk. When they finally got to their room Isaac noticed Scott’s exhaustion. He didn’t change, just sat on the edge of Isaac’s bed, head in his hands. Isaac looked to Scott’s leg, no longer bleeding but the wounds didn’t fade from the mind as easily. Isaac wondered if the amount of wolfsbane he had been taking in over the past year, his propensity for hasty repairs rather than properly cleaning the poison out, if that might eventually have negative consequences. A problem for later. 

“Are you okay?” Isaac sat beside him, about to reach for his hand, but the presence of his friends, making their way to bed, made him hesitate. 

“Fine,” Scott managed a smile. Isaac could see past it easily, but he didn’t want to push. Eventually everyone found rest, the sun soon to rise, but Isaac could hear Scott’s heartbeat refuse to settle. 

“You’re not okay.” 

“What?” 

“It’s okay to be scared, Scott.” 

Scott rolled over to face him, mere inches apart. Isaac could feel the warmth of his breath on his face, their legs almost touching. “I need to be okay right now, Ise. They need me.” 

“Yeah, and you need us,” Isaac whispered teasingly. “You’re not alone in this.” 

“I know,” Scott smiled weakly. “Guess I… Guess I just didn’t expect it to go this way. That’s all.” 

“I’m sorry about your house.” 

Scott laughed softly. “It’s not about the house. I mean, it _is_, but mostly just… We couldn’t just have a night, y’know? Without something crazy happening to pull us down.” 

“We’ll figure it out. You have so far.” 

“I’m tired.” 

“Mhm me too,” Isaac assumed that would be the end of it, when instead Scott pulled him close, burying his face in Isaac’s chest with a weighted sigh. Isaac froze, surprised, before wrapping his arms around him. They had woken up intertwined before, never discussing it only pulling apart and not acknowledging it, like it was a delicate thing, but this was something different. Scott wanted to hold onto him and Isaac had never felt more _right_ than when he held onto him in return. It was the easiest way for him to promise that everything would be okay. Isaac felt like there was something pressing against the inside of his chest, trying to make them closer, not just holding onto each other but a part of each other, and those words echoed in the back of his head irrefutable, _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Morning, or at least the waking hours, came too soon. The kind of abrupt awakening that is always a surprise. 

“American. Come on. Uncle Chris wants us to meet him in his room. We’re making plans,” Romy nudged him lightly. “Wake up your boy too,” she smiled far too smugly. Isaac realized he still had his arm around Scott. 

Isaac ignored her, gently shaking Scott awake. 

“Mhmf…” Scott mumbled incoherently, burying his head in Isaac’s chest. 

“Come on, Scott. Pack meeting,” Isaac spoke softly, indescribable warmth filling him up just looking at Scott, sleepy and safe beside him. 

“You be alpha today,” Scott mumbled. 

Isaac exhaled a laugh, “yeah. Why not. We should be a democracy, anyway. You can just sit there while we vote.” 

“Fine.” 

Stiles met them in the hallway, looking half dead, glaring at both of them like their very existence was an affront to his senses. 

Lydia was already in the parent’s room, sitting at the little table by the window, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I tried to let you sleep as long as I could, but we need to get this stuff sorted,” Chris sighed. 

“Where’s my mom?” Scott asked. 

“And my dad?” Stiles squinted blearily at the empty room. 

“They’re both at the house, dealing with the paperwork,” Chris explained. “Once I get the all clear, we’ll send you guys over to look for anything that might help us.” 

“And what about the rest of us?” Mason asked, stumbling into the room followed by Liam who fell face first onto the nearest bed. 

All eyes went to Scott, even Chris, the only proper adult in the room, looked to the 20 year old for guidance. 

“Mason and Liam, I’d think, should just try and stay safe and out of Monroe’s reach, right?” Isaac jumped in. “And Stiles– You’re gonna investigate the house while your dad works from the station?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles seemed surprised that Isaac was taking the lead. Not to say Isaac had any clue what he was doing. 

Jeanie seemed to sense this, taking over as she had spent years preparing to do. “Okay. No one goes anywhere alone. Romy– How about you go with Stiles as backup?” 

“I can take care of myself,” Stiles muttered, shuffling from foot to foot. 

“No, Stiles, she’s right. It’s smart. Monroe’s people are still out there, so we stick together,” Scott joined the fray. 

“Right,” Stiles grumbled. “So what’re you going to be doing, then?” 

Scott looked to Lydia. “I want to figure out how they’re covering their scents. I want to go over some of the stuff we took after the last fight, try and actually follow what we’re up against.” 

“Yeah. We can do that,” Lydia looked to Chris. “You’d know better than we would.” 

Chris looked to Isaac. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

“So, we’re just doing nothing, huh?” Liam mumbled. “In that case I’m goin’ back to bed.” 

“Where should I go, Isaak?” Sasha asked uncertainly. 

“You can just come along with us. Maybe you’ll have some intel from the hunters you’ve dealt with,” Scott tried to be encouraging. 

“I do not know how I help but I will try,” Sasha seemed nervous under the attention. 

“Where’s the stuff?” Isaac asked Chris. 

“It’s still in my jeep,” Stiles said. "Do we… do we really want to pick that apart like, in a parking garage? And I don’t think they’ll let us bring old flashbangs and shit into a fancy hotel.” 

“We could… we could take it back to Derek’s while you guys look at the house?” Scott offered. 

“Yeah. That works,” Lydia nodded. “And maybe Derek could call Braeden. She’s been all over with this stuff.” 

“Okay. Everyone knows what they’re doing?” Scott revaluated. “Good. We’ll check in later today.” 

“Looks like I’m your bodyguard for the day,” Romy slung her arm around Stiles’ shoulder. “We are getting coffee first, though.” 

“Don’t need a bodyguard…” Stiles muttered. “Don’t see why Lydia can’t come with me instead…” 

Romy followed him towards the door, giving Isaac a wink on her way out. 

“Who’s telling Derek we’re crashing at his place again?” Isaac asked. 

“I can if you guys are too nervous,” Lydia rolled her eyes as they made their way downstairs. 

Things felt easier with a plan in place. Derek was, albeit grudgingly, supportive of them taking the shady paramilitary gear into his apartment for dissection. 

“Braedon is coming up this weekend anyway. She should have some idea about all this,” Derek’s arms were folded over his chest, observing the procession solemnly. 

“So, my initial thought was that the hunters were covering up their scent the same way normal hunters do, with another scent, right? One we wouldn’t immediately mark down as human or whatever,” Isaac pitched in. 

“Okay, yeah,” Scott nodded. “Then the question is, how do we work around that? Scent and hearing are our best defense. The hearing part… well, the only trouble there is sonic emitters. By that point we’ll know something is coming but not from where.” 

“I know it is a crutch, but earplugs may be a good idea,” Jeanie said. 

Derek nodded a little grudgingly. “We’d have worse hearing, probably human standard, but we wouldn’t be incompacitated by it.” 

“And we wouldn’t need to keep them in all the time. Just if we pick up on an emitter,” Scott said. 

“Jeanie, do you know how things are going in Russia? Do you think we’ll have reinforcements any time soon?” Isaac asked. 

Jeanie grimaced. “It was a big mess to clean up, Isaac. Days more, maybe even weeks. We need to track down the remaining sects so they don’t regroup and we’re back to square one.” 

“Yeah, thought as much…” 

“Hey, we’re not in urgent need of support. We’ve defended Beacon Hills before, we can do it again,” Scott tried to keep things less gloomy. 

“Yeah, and you had to pull out all the stops then,” Derek pointed out. “You called in me and Stiles, even people like Theo and Peter. Jackson, Ethan, even Deucalion.” 

“_What?_” Isaac interjected, staring at Scott. “You never told me that.” 

“He swore off fighting, but he helped me figure out how to fight blind. Or tried to at least,” Scott laughed nervously. “You already know how that turned out.” 

“Okay, well, what’re you thinking then, Derek? Until the Argents can get here, we call everyone back?” Lydia cut in. 

Derek shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea. Like I said, I asked Braeden to stay here for a while. Backup.” 

“Braeden…” Isaac tried to recall how he knew that name. “Wait– Wait, I knew her. She’s the one who got me away from the alpha pack. Deucalion cut into her, right? Bad, too. But she… stuck around?” 

Derek remained noncommittal. “Not really, her job keeps her on the road a lot but…” 

Scott gave Derek a teasing look, “I’d say she, uh, she _kept in touch._” 

Derek frowned disapprovingly. 

“Oh,” Isaac looked from Derek to Scott. “_Oh,_ well. Uh. Better than your last girlfriend, Derek.” Derek glared. “What, too soon?” 

Jeanie, Lydia, and Chris were unamused. 

“Okay. Are we reaching out to other contacts, then?” Chris asked. “I wouldn’t say it’s unwarranted. Monroe is back and she’s not pulling any punches.” 

“I don’t know,” Lydia looked to Scott. “I can have Jackson and Ethan here in 48 hours if you need them. It was your house.” 

“It’s not about the _house_,” Scott shook his head. “She could’ve killed us. And I really don’t think she’s going to stop. But I think we still have things under control. She’s working in the dark. I don’t think she’d be doing that if she had an army behind her.” 

“Okay,” Lydia said. “We’ll hold off, then. In the mean time, I think we should meet up with Parrish. The Sheriff had him checking out abandoned buildings, new rentals, the works. They’re staying _somewhere._” 

“Well, some of us still need to stay here. Figure out their gear and make plans going forward,” Chris pointed out. 

“I will go with her, uh, Lydia. To Parrish,” Sasha spoke up uncertainly. 

“Good. Good– No one goes anywhere alone,” Scott agreed. 

“And in the mean time…” Chris sighed, staring at the pile of stolen gear. “I’m starting to wonder if Monroe has got some military contacts, _proper_ ones, because this stuff is difficult to come by, even in our trade.” 

“Well, this should be fun,” Isaac sighed. 

Jeanie looked to Chris, “and do you have other evidence kept outside of the house?” 

“Yeah. This is just our most recent batch,” Chris nodded. 

“I would like to look at that today.” 

“Scott, you know the most about it. Could you show her?” Chris asked. 

“Actually. I would like you both to come. No offense, Scott, but Chris has a better understanding of the Argents and of your people. He makes a nice middle ground,” Jeanie offered. 

“Oh. Uh. Sure. I can do that,” Scott glanced to Isaac, seeming regretful that they would separate. 

“And what’re we doing?” Isaac asked. 

“Going over these things carefully until we get back,” Jeanie said like it was obvious. 

“Guess I’ll… see you later,” Scott hesitated, like he wanted to something before quickly thinking better of it. 

“Right.” 

The air in the loft felt harsh, boxed in. Just him and Derek and a table full of weaponry between them. 

“So,” Isaac started. “You… uh. You heard from Cora?” 

Derek showed no inclination for annoyance or intrigue towards this choice in topic. “Some. We call, but I haven’t seen her in… in a while.” 

Isaac nodded, feeling awkward. “And… you’re still in touch with Peter.” 

“Yeah. I am.” 

“No… no hard feelings about that?” 

“Hard feelings?” 

Isaac laughed nervously. “Well, I mean…” 

“Is this really what you want to talk about, Isaac?” Derek gave him a look. 

“No. No, I guess not.” 

The irksome silence continued for another few minutes. 

“Before, you–” Isaac paced from foot to foot, shifting his weight like that would help him think. “You– You said you wanted to talk. And, I mean, I dunno if there’s gonna be a better time than now.” 

“I said when things were calmer,” Derek frowned. “I guess things don’t get much calmer than this,” he sighed. 

Quiet pressed in again. 

“This was your idea, man. You gotta start this,” Isaac broke it. 

“Right, right, yeah,” Derek pushed his hair back, thinking. “Okay. My first thought is to explain how I’ve changed, but that feels more like a demand for forgiveness than an apology.” 

“I don’t know about that. Depends. What’ve you got?” 

Derek finally looked him head on, and his gaze, always so intense, was somehow more so. As if in a look he could express all he was figuring out how to say. “I never should’ve been an alpha.” 

“Derek–” 

“No, no– I can already tell you’re trying to defend me, don’t do that. At the very least– Who I was when I bit you all, I should never have done that then. I don’t _want_ to be an alpha now, but say I did, I’d be much better off now. But I put you– What I put all of you through because I was… I was ill prepared and desperate and angry, that’s not an excuse. I was responsible for all of you and I let you down.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, by–” 

“Yeah, yeah, bygones, you already said that. I get it, you’ve had years of therapy to get over what a shitty alpha I was, but I haven’t done anything to deserve those bygones, you know? So– So at the very least, I’m gonna apologize,” Derek remained intent and adamant and Isaac really didn’t see a point in trying to stop him anymore. 

Isaac said nothing for too long a pause. “...Okay. Go ahead.” 

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, as if he hadn’t planned ahead this far. “I coerced you. I knew what your dad was doing, and I told you the only way out was the bite. I… I could’ve gotten you help. _Real_ help– I knew so I could’ve called the police, I could’ve taken you in _without_ biting you–” 

“Why would you have done that?” 

“Because it was right?!” Derek snapped. “I helped you because I knew it would help me too. Same with Erica, same with Boyd. Jackson– Jackson was less planned, he wasn’t even a part of our pack, he refused to be, but he was still a teenager who I bit and almost killed in doing so. And-And I was _cruel_, Isaac. I was fucking cruel. I broke your arm because you got _mouthy_, because I was scared you all weren’t taking this seriously– That’s– that’s sick.” 

“You’re really gonna keep beating yourself up over that? Hell, I healed in a minute, I mean, my dad was–” 

“Exactly. It was something your dad would’ve done,” Derek’s jaw was set and tense. “I’m not saying this so you’ll pity me. I’m saying it so you know that I know I fucked up.” 

Isaac remained silent, waiting for him to continue, despite his strange need to just forgive, he understood why Derek felt like he had to do this. Isaac thought maybe he needed to hear it too. 

“When it came to looking for Erica and Boyd, I refused to ask for help. And that meant you had to suffer with me. I didn’t take good care of you, I wasn’t fit to be an alpha or a guardian. I didn’t make sure you had food, I didn’t try and get you ready for school or let you be a fucking kid, I had you running all over Beacon Hills like a war mission. I let you go out scouting alone– And– And that’s why the Alpha Pack got to you and hurt you–” 

“Don’t take credit for that–” 

“I didn’t even pick up the phone while you were in the fucking _hospital_–” 

“Again, that was–” 

“I kicked you out! I didn’t just tell you to leave, I didn’t bother trying to explain– I did something I _knew_ would trigger you because I thought a clean break was the easiest way for both of us. I was selfish, Isaac,” Derek remained adamant. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

“Okay,” Isaac spoke softly. “I’m pretty sure I get to decide that, Derek. And from what I’ve heard… you’re not selfish anymore.” 

Derek stared at the table of weapons in front of them, so bitter and angry with himself. “Two out of three dead. And that’s on me.” Derek buried his head in his hands. “I… I carried Erica’s body out. She spent the last few months of her life in a fucking cage. I was the one who stabbed Boyd. He _trusted_ me, and all it took was a few assholes holding my arms for me to be the one to kill him.” 

Isaac sat beside him. “Sometimes I think I should’ve gone with them. Thought about it all that summer. Told myself if I had left with them, maybe I could’ve saved them. Maybe told them to run sooner or sacrificed myself first or whatever heroic martyrdom bullshit I was clinging to those months… 

“You know I don’t regret it, right?” Isaac spoke carefully. “The bite. Despite all of it– and you’re right, there was a _lot_... it was still the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Isaac almost corrected that in his train of thought, not aloud, of course, but reminded himself that _Scott_ was the best thing to happen to him. Of course, Derek’s bite was what got him there. 

“Well, I’m glad, but sadly we can’t do a poll because you’re the only member of my pack who fucking _survived._” Derek muttered. 

Isaac nudged him gently, voice so soft. Derek had meant to apologize, truly, he hadn’t said these things looking for pity, Isaac knew that, but Isaac also understood Derek in a way no one else could. They lost their entire families. And their packs. “You know what he said, Derek,” almost a whisper. “I know you do. Boyd thought it was worth it until the end.” Isaac looked up, towards the towering windows and the Beacon Hills skyline, thinking of past events in this very room. “And Erica died fighting. She went down with strength. And yeah, she was strong as hell before then, but you helped her learn to fight.” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“Boyd told me,” Isaac said simply. No more pain in his words, just peace. He had not let go of the grief woven through his chest, he never would, but he could be okay with its weight. At least for a while. “I… I asked him about her. About what happened. And I think Boyd was already sort of pushing me away because he didn’t really know how to deal with it all, but we were still pack. So. When I asked… when I asked how she died, he told me.” That ache in his chest got a little tighter, his voice tremoring. “Still hurts, though.” 

“You’ve been through too much, Isaac.” 

Isaac laughed. “Mhm. Thanks for pointing that out. I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.” 

Derek huffed. “Right.” 

“I’m still dealing with this stuff. And I don’t think I’m ever gonna _not_ be dealing with this stuff.” Isaac paused, another pain rising up in his throat. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

Isaac looked away, wiping his eyes. “I just… uh, I just realized I’ve– I’ve outlived Cam. My brother Camden, I’m pretty sure I’m older than him now. I outlived my brother,” Isaac laughed bitterly. “I’m older than he’s ever gonna be. That only just hit me now. Dunno why.” 

Derek actually nodded. “I’ve outlived Laura. I know what you mean… She was my big sister, she was supposed to be the next alpha of the Hale pack, and instead she’s just dead. And the Hale pack… The Hale pack isn’t anything anymore.” Derek didn’t seem angry anymore, just tired. 

“Do you think about your mom much?” Isaac didn’t know what brought it to mind, but he just had to talk. So he kept going. “I’d ask about your dad, but I’m trying to relate, so, I’ll keep it away from dads for now. I feel like I don’t think about my mom as much as I should. I mean, she died when I was still pretty young.” 

“I think about my mom a lot,” Derek was so unguarded. The Derek Hale Isaac knew all those years ago was nowhere to be found in this soft exchange of loss. “What she would’ve done, if she would’ve been proud of me. I used to worry she wouldn’t because… because I’m not an alpha. And the Hale pack is dead and gone. Properly dead and gone, because even with Peter and Cora… that’s not a pack. They’re family, but the pack that bound us is… it’s not severed, exactly. It’s more like… It’s what I guess scar tissue is,” Derek glanced at Isaac, the bitten wolf who actually understood what scar tissue was. “It’s not an open wound, but it’s not right anymore.” 

“I get what you mean,” Isaac nodded. “Whatever I feel towards my dad– not the same as what you’re talking about at all, of course, but it’s like… it’s ugly. It’s this weird mess of… of scar tissue. Like, I’ve killed the infection, but I can’t deny it was there. The love and the hate.” 

Derek exhaled a soft laugh. “The love and the hate. Yeah. That’s… It makes sense.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not living for him anymore. I _am_ living for them,” Isaac’s hand went to his arm. “Actually…” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the two circles of Scott’s pack, the three arrow heads, which were between each spiral of a triskele. 

“Oh,” Derek sounded genuinely touched. “You…” 

“Yeah,” Isaac admitted. “Not just for you, like, definitely not, but also for you. And Erica. And Boyd. And… what could’ve been and I wish had been.” 

“I wish things had gone differently, Isaac. So much.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” 

Any vulnerability, whatever this mood was, died as the elevator dinged, announcing the return of the rest of their party. No one seemed to notice that the two werewolves had just bared their souls to each other after years of separation, not that they acknowledged it either, simply stood and got back to work, but both of them understood that something had changed between them, a mutual understanding, not _pack_ in any way like it was before, but _pack_ in another way. Maybe even friends. 

The most eventful part of the afternoon following that conversation was Isaac almost setting of a teargas canister loaded with wolfsbane, Jeanie jumping in and stopping him before he screwed with the casing. Much to Derek’s chagrin, the plan was to meet up and go over what they had figured out at the loft. Lydia and Sasha arrived first, followed by the sheriff and Melissa. 

“Do we… do we wait?” Sasha asked as more time passed and Stiles and Romy still didn’t show. 

“They _went_ to the house, right?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah we saw both of them just before we left,” Melissa frowned. 

“I don’t know how much there was for them to check out. My guys– They couldn’t identify what was in the canisters. It was more than enough to file it as arson, but I assumed Stiles and your friend would notice something we wouldn’t,” the sheriff looked at each of them. “That might be what’s taking up their time, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, probably,” Isaac tried to agree. “I’m gonna text Romy.” 

Scott’s phone rang and all eyes went to him. 

“Is that Stiles?” Lydia asked. 

“No– No, it’s Malia,” Scott frowned. 

All werewolves present could hear her. 

“Scott– Scott they found us– Me, Liam, and Mason– Fuck–” 

“Malia?! Malia, where are you?! Are you okay?!” Scott started heading to the door. 

“I… I’m good. I’m okay, I’m driving. They shot Liam. He’s okay, it was in the leg, but _fuck_. I didn’t expect them to corner us in a parking lot–” 

“Where are you? You can’t come back to the loft if they’re tailing you. We’ll meet you– Just tell me where you are,” Scott nodded them towards the hall, even those who hadn’t heard Malia’s frantic words understood it was time to move out. 

“I’m still driving. I don’t think they’re following, but I don’t know– I don’t know–” 

“Tell her to go to the station. They can cover her there,” the Sheriff spoke up as they rushed down to the parking garage. 

“Mals, we’re gonna meet you at the station, we’ll be there in ten, tops, okay?” 

“Yeah– Yeah fine, I don’t think anyone at the sheriff’s station knows how to take care of a _wolfsbane bullet_, Scott–” 

“We’ll bring supplies,” Scott looked to his mom. “Liam’s been shot.” 

“Got it,” Melissa gritted her teeth, heading to the trunk of her car. 

“We’re on our way, okay? Just get there, and hunker down,” Scott remained panicked. 

“Got it.” 

“No– No Malia don’t hang up–” Scott put away his phone with an aggravated huff. 

“It’s okay, Scott. They’re gonna get to the station, we’ll meet them there,” Isaac tried to calm him. 

“Okay but how the hell did they find them?!” Scott burst out. “What was she trying to gain by-by shooting a kid?!” 

Isaac was struck by how much Scott cared about Liam, all of his pack, sure, but there was a bond there that Isaac hadn’t quite fathomed. He wasn’t sure if it was that connection between alpha and beta, or Scott’s propensity to try and take care of everyone was innate. As if Isaac needed another reason for the way he felt about him. 

Scott was the first one out of the car before Isaac had even stopped. 

“He’s okay, Scott,” Malia got out to join him, Liam laying in the back seat, Mason helping keep pressure on the bullet wound in his thigh. 

“Well, he’s about to be,” Melissa followed, her kit out and ready. 

Isaac hung back, looking around the lot for any incoming combatants. “Malia–” he turned to her, “what happened?” 

Malia, first surprised that Isaac was referring to her, but cut to the chase. “Well, I was taking those two to drug mart ‘cause of Scott’s whole no-one-goes-alone policy, and halfway to the car, I saw this guy tailing us, turned around, about to get my claws out, and before I can they’ve shot Liam and one of them tried to _grab_ Mason, not shoot him, _grab_ him.” 

“A-And they had stun batons,” Liam grimaced, holding onto Mason’s hand as Melissa made quick work of his wound. He bit his knuckles as the wolfsbane cleared away painfully before finally healing. “They almost got Malia down by shocking her.” 

“Yeah, psh,” Malia scoffed. “You can’t be friends with a kitsune and not get used to a little electricity.” 

Mason gave her a look, “I mean, it helps when you bite the guy’s hand before he can hit you.” 

“Yeah. That too.” 

“Wait, so. They didn’t try and kill you,” Scott looked at Isaac with weighted concern. 

“Well, no,” Malia frowned. “I guess not. I mean they shot Liam but…” 

“But they were aiming for the legs,” Chris sighed. “Shit.” 

“Wait, why? What does that mean?” Mason asked. 

“We don’t know,” Scott grew grim. “But it looks like they’re trying to keep people alive.” 

“Okay, we _need_ to find Stiles,” Lydia grew more anxious. “Isaac, did your friend text back?” 

“N-No, she hasn’t,” Isaac felt sick. This would not lead anywhere good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok just to be clear. I do Not hate Derek. I actually love the overall character arc he went through, but I do think for him, becoming something other than an alpha, and still being able to help, that was what his journey was about.  
again, thank you guys for being patient.


End file.
